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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26960860">Nothing Was Destined</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/reddottedpaper/pseuds/reddottedpaper'>reddottedpaper</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Old Guard (Movie 2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Book of Nile, Character Death, Character Study, Depression, Domestic Fluff, Drug Use, F/F, Family Bonding, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Getting to Know Each Other, Graphic Description, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mystery, POV Multiple, Prostitution, Slow Burn, Smoking, Talking, Team Bonding, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Violence, only at the end</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 03:02:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>68,533</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26960860</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/reddottedpaper/pseuds/reddottedpaper</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>An AU in which none of the immortals ever dreamt of each other and never met. Each of them was left to their own devices, completely alone for all this time.</p><p>Is it finally destiny that they meet now? Or is it an elaborate plan by someone else?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Andromache of Scythia &amp; Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani &amp; Nicky | Nicolo di Genova &amp; Nile Freeman, Andy | Andromache of Scythia &amp; Quynh | Noriko, Booker | Sebastien le Livre &amp; Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, Booker | Sebastien le Livre/Nile Freeman, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>180</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>315</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Worn-to-hell-and-back</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“The guests are arriving, shall I set the table for dinner?”</p><p>“Yes, Tony. Please,” said the man in a dark blue suit. The maid left and he got up from his seat at the massive oak table to reach the windows. Truly, their first guest was about to reach the front gate. Judging by the single luggage the driver was pulling out of the trunk once the car stopped, this could be professor Jones- praised in his field for his resourcefulness and humbleness. But then again, all of them were probable to have a single luggage, if any at all. The text that beeped on his phone confirmed his deduction, either way.</p><p>Copley left his study glancing at the screen of his computer, seeing all status lights green. His step was light and sure as he descended down the staircase into the huge mahogany entrance hall. Standing there already was Joseph Jones, a charismatic warm man with bright brown eyes and even brighter smile. His reputation painted the picture of a middle aged bookworm that surely had a humpback from the weight of his experience and knowledge, yet the man before Copley was young and full of strength. As far as he knew, Jones only recently celebrated his 39th birthday. Still, he didn’t look his age.</p><p>“Professor Jones?”</p><p>“Yes. Are you Copley? James Copley?” asked Jones and put his suitcase down to shake hands.</p><p>“Indeed, I am. Nice to meet you, professor.”</p><p>“Just Joe is fine,” said Joe and shook his hand firmly. When they let go Copley took a step back and closed one eye, scanning his guest up and down.</p><p>“Joe, I.. I apologize. I don’t mean to be rude. Are you <em> the </em> professor Jones? You’re awfully young. Someone with your prestige sounded to be… older.” The man before him just smiled, trying to hide the gum he’s been chewing in the hollow of his cheek.</p><p>“I get that all the time. What can I say? I started out young. And had a lot of luck.” </p><p>“Please, I’m sure it’s not just luck. You’re a man of great mind and talent.”</p><p>Grateful, but visibly uncomfortable at the compliments, Joe turned on his heel to assess the beautiful hall. Pointing out a few framed pieces on the walls, he looked back at Copley.</p><p>“Les Femmes D'alger?” asked Joe and his finger waved towards a painting that could, to Copley, be as well a high schooler’s failed art class project. But Joe continued with passion and a knowing smirk settled on his lips, “Rembrandt’s Bust of an Old Man? Are these real?”</p><p>“I apologize. I wouldn’t know,” said Copley and gave a nervous grin to support it. “These artworks belong to the owner, Mr. Merrick. I’m afraid I'm a layman in art.” Joe nodded in understanding and scoffed when his gaze landed back on the framed panel on the wall.</p><p>“Must’ve cost a pretty dime,” he murmured under his beard, scanning the expensive decor and hardwood floors. “Where is Mr. Merrick, then? Or the paintings I’m supposed to evaluate?”</p><p>“Mr. Merrick is, unfortunately, busy with his business in London at the time. He has the artworks in his personal vault at the HQ. But he will join us here in a few days, together with the paintings, of course.”</p><p>Joe looked surprised, and surprised meant to be alert and wary. Copley noticed the twitch in his eye.</p><p>“I was told that you were offered an opportunity to study the pieces. Mr. Merrick merely thought the countryside would be a more suitable place for such a task. Calm and clean space for a scholar such as you, rather than dusty, noisy London,” improvised Copley and gave it all his charm. It took a few seconds but Joe smirked, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his trousers.</p><p>“Tell Mr. Merrick that if the paintings are originals, all transportation is a risk of damage and any <em> scholar </em> like me would much rather drive a few miles than glue together torn pieces of canvas,” he scolded Copley, not Merrick unfortunately, but the meaning behind his words was pure, not angry. Copley took no offense, trading smiles with his guest. “I’ll wait then. Can I stuff my stuff somewhere?”</p><p>“Of course, right this way.”</p><p> </p><p>Once Joe was in his room, Copley returned to greet his guest number two. It started to rain outside, as it usually did in Scotland, and the man that hurried inside the door was understandably soaked like a mouse. When he took off the raincoat, Copley recognized the shaggy hair and a sharp cut jaw, pulling up images he’d already seen from his mental database.</p><p>“Are you doctor Smith?” asked Copley and attracted the man’s attention to the hand he was offering. “I’m James Copley. We called when you landed.”</p><p>“Oh, right! Yeah. Nicholas Smith. People call me Nicky. Nice to meet you,” said the wet man, way too fast and with an accent Copley could easily place in Italy. He was twitchy, nervous perhaps, but not lost. Once  they'd shaken hands and he'd scanned his surroundings, his expression slid into a calm stoic stare that reminded Copley of a judge silently assessing a criminal. Again, his young face spoke of none of the great feats written under his name. Only the bags under his prominent eyes hinted at the horrors the doctor must have seen in his career. More than eight years in total in deployments and kept coming back. His papers said he was 40.</p><p>“Likewise, Nicky. Should I show you to your room?”</p><p>“I thought that Mr. Merrick wanted to see me?”</p><p>“He’s not here at the moment but he’ll join us in a few days. My task, in the meantime, is to make you comfortable. Mr. Merrick had a room prepared for you on the first floor.” Again, that look of surprise. Copley told himself to expect it from all of his guests.</p><p>“I’m sorry, there must’ve been a misunderstanding. I was due to leave for an assignment this evening when you called me. I don’t have time to spare,” worried Nicky.</p><p>“Your assignment has been taken care of,” Copley cut his worries off with a confident tone, “Mr. Merrick believes your involvement could be more than beneficial to the development of the vaccine, doctor Smith- Nicky. I assure you that a very skilled doctor took your place in the platoon. Everything is taken care of.” Nicky sighed like a tired old man, despite not looking a day over 30. He hung his head low and shrugged his shoulders like a man with nothing to lose. Copley took the cue and led him up the stairs.</p><p>“Oh, right. Zeus!” excused himself Nicky from Copley and whistled. A german shepherd ran up the stairs, wet to the bone but not shaking it off out of politeness. This time it was Copley who looked surprised, imagining the scream Merrick would screech once he saw the paw prints on his expensive carpets.</p><p>“This is Zeus. He’s with me,” said Nicky and dried the dog off with a towel he fetched from his pocket. Then he walked up the stairs with Zeus in tow.</p><p>“Of course,” muttered Copley and followed them.</p><p> </p><p>He was pleased to find no paw prints on his way back to the entrance hall. The door flew open just as he hit the last step but Copley didn't let the dramatic entrance sway his confident stance. He had a hunch as to who it was. Inside came a tall blonde man in black glasses - despite the rain - and a leather jacket with leopard print, every other finger on his hands decorated by a massive golden ring. </p><p>"Copley! Are you?" he asked, or rather shouted, while pointing a finger at Copley.</p><p>"And you must be Sebastien Le Livre," said Copley.</p><p>"I like when people know me," grinned the man. He came up to Copley and his grip left a faint bruise on Copley's hand when they parted.</p><p>"How could I not," Copley made small talk while glancing behind Livre. There was nobody else.</p><p>"I admit I expected you to come with bodyguards."</p><p>"Not really my style. I came for business. So where is it?"</p><p>"Mr. Merrick will come in a few days. Meanwhile, this mansion is yours to use. Shall I show you your room?"</p><p>"What are you, Copley? Merrick's secretary?" asked Livre while circling him in lazy, wide steps. He took out a flask and took a swig that was not the first. For a moment, his attention was occupied with a vase that he balanced on its edge and then set back down.</p><p>"I'm his security supervisor," answered Copley kindly. "Mr. Merrick asked me to make sure you're all comfortable and safe in his summer house."</p><p>"All?" Livre wondered out loud and gave Copley a drunken look.</p><p>"Yes, there are several guests in the house. You'll meet them at dinner."</p><p>"I don't mean to be rude," said Livre while leaning with an arm on Copley's shoulder. "But I didn't come here for a get together. I came here because your rich boy's illegal antics sounded fun." He pushed his glasses further down his nose, looking eye to eye with Copley. His were red with lack of sleep. "Is this gonna be fun, Copley?"</p><p>The unease in Copley's face was not acted and he couldn't help the little shove he granted to his guest as he stepped away from him.</p><p>"This house has everything you could wish for to pass your time, sir."</p><p>Livre laughed and fixed his glasses. "Perfect!" he yelled and Copley noticed Tony walking past and almost dropping her tray. "Bring a bottle of your finest wine?" </p><p>With a polite hand at Livre's back, Copley led him up the stairs, taking his luggage.</p><p> </p><p>The next knock at the big door was produced by a gentle looking young woman. Thankfully, it stopped raining by then. Copley reached the hall just as she hung up her mostly dry bomber jacket.</p><p>"Miss Nile Freeman," he announced and walked down the stairs to greet her properly. "Nice to finally meet you."</p><p>"Are you James Copley?" she asked without eye contact. Her gaze was reserved for the walls littered with paintings that had already been admired today. She shook his hand without looking, awestruck, and it drew a smile out of Copley.</p><p>"Like the art pieces?" he asked.</p><p>"Sure do. Is that… Rembrandt?"</p><p>"I've heard so, yes."</p><p>Miss Freeman let her mouth fall agape with a gasp.</p><p>"You'll have plenty of time to gaze upon these and the others,” assured her Copley.</p><p>"Others?"</p><p>"Those pieces professor Jones will be evaluating?"</p><p>"Oh! Is professor Jones here?"</p><p>"Yes, he is. Do you know him?"</p><p>"Like a crazy fan knows Harry Styles. That man is first class in art history." Copley chuckled and Nile shyly took a step towards the side of the room, not liking the centre. </p><p>"You'll spend a lot of time together. You're his assistant for the evaluation. For your dissertation, yes?"</p><p>She gave him a fat moment of silence and empty stares before blinking just as he did and catching up on her train of thoughts.</p><p>"Yes. Yes! This is a great opportunity for me."</p><p>Copley nodded and it looked like understanding.</p><p>"When will we start?" she asked silently, her hands gripping the strap of her backpack.</p><p>"In a few days. In the meantime, you're free to roam the mansion and enjoy Mr. Merrick's entertainment."</p><p> </p><p>It was no surprise to Copley that his last guest arrived on foot. Her clothes were dirty and her face even more so. Her worn-to-hell-and-back boots left footprints on the shiny floor as she approached him. In spite of her appearance, she stood tall and held him in a gaze very few people would look away from. She didn't reach to shake his hand when he did.</p><p>"Are you Merrick?" she asked in a harsh tone.</p><p>"No. I'm James Copley, nice to meet you."</p><p>"Where is Merrick?"</p><p>It was enough to send Copley down a different road of approach. He eased his shoulders and said "He'll arrive the day after tomorrow."</p><p>The woman scoffed and blew away a stray strand of her black hair.</p><p>"I knew this was a waste of time," she murmured, turning around to leave.</p><p>Copley waited until her soles hit the marble step outside to speak again.</p><p>"Quynh."</p><p>She stopped walking. Not knowing she was moving a second ago, Copley would have thought he was watching a mannequin, or a statue. But he knew how to breathe life into her motionless form and get her to talk again, even stay.</p><p>“What do you know about that name?” she asked with urgency.</p><p>“Not much,” Copley shrugged and his hands slid into his coat pockets before continuing, “Mr. Merrick doesn’t share everything with me. It’s just a name I was supposed to give you.”</p><p>The woman stared into his eyes with intensity closing a flame and Copley felt the heat, and knew he would burn if he stared back too long.</p><p>“He said that you two have got something to discuss regarding this… Quynh,” he added.</p><p>“We do,” she mumbled. Her face spoke of defeat.</p><p>Giving a quick glance to the hall, she located the stairs and walked past Copley to them.</p><p>“And your name, miss?” Copley asked while following her.</p><p>“Andrea Black,” she answered without looking at him.</p><p> </p><p>Copley ordered the maid to invite each guest to dinner that would take place in the hunter’s room, the one with a great oak table, at 9pm. With all preparations almost done, it was just a game of wait from now on. Surely, all his guests were tired after their travels. Would they shower in their rooms? Change clothes before dinner? </p><p>He took off his suit’s jacket and fitted it over the back of his chair, then slumped down into it. Various frames of cam transmissions were neatly organized into a grid on his monitor. On one, professor Jones was lying on his bed, typing on a laptop. Next one showed the Italian, sitting with his head in hands, his dog lying under his feet. The Frenchman was drinking,<em> obviously, </em> thought Copley. The young woman was reading a book and the last one - ‘Andrea’, Copley renamed the capture’s title, sat on the ground with her back leaning against the bed, looking miserable.</p><p>“Quite the specimens, aren’t they?” rang out a screechy voice from the speakers and Copley got startled.</p><p>He hastily put on an earpiece and said “Mr. Merrick. You shouldn’t speak up before I give you the clear. Anyone could hear you.”</p><p>“Right. I apologize,” said Merrick without much honesty.</p><p>He was in his security room in London, surrounded by his trusty bodyguard and a few technicians, watching the screen that mirrored Copley’s. It was an understatement to say that his eyes gleamed when he watched the transmission - they shone like a lighthouse through the darkness of night, bright with greed and hope and <em> options </em> that he was mentally writing down. </p><p>“They don’t look very special,” he mused out loud.</p><p>“We don’t have a definitive proof yet, sir. But according to my research, it’s them,” assured him Copley.</p><p>Focusing on each face on his monitor, Copley wondered whether he was right. The breadcrumbs he had found led him to these people. But if he was mistaken, if he was not correct, just how much will he alter their lives? Their regular, mortal lives. </p><p>“Report to me regularly. And get me what I want, James.”</p><p>“Yes, sir.”</p><p>The call ended and Copley took out the earpiece.</p><p> </p><p>When Joe left his room he was wearing a soft dark blue blazer with a white band collar button up underneath, ready for dinner. Fixing his cuff, no attention being paid to his steps, he almost hit someone when he turned the corner. Both men stumbled a step back, apologizing profusely. When Joe eyed his victim he stilled, tucking his hands into his pant pockets. A small, gentle smile grew on his face.</p><p>“Sorry, I don’t know where I was looking if not at you,” he said, eyes fixed on Nicky’s.</p><p>The man’s face broke into a nervous little laugh and he dodged Joe’s gaze to regard the floor.</p><p>“Yeah, me neither. Sorry. Wasn’t looking where my feet were taking me,” Nicky said, his hand getting lost in his unruly hair. He was wearing a comfy looking beige knit sweater with dark blue jeans, brown ankle boots that were now kicking the carpet.</p><p>The silence that grew between them was thick with awkwardness but Joe’s smile only deepened.</p><p>“I’m Joe,” he introduced himself. “Nice to meet you.”</p><p>“Nicholas. Nicky,” said the other man and reached for his hand a bit too eagerly.</p><p>“So, are you Merrick’s guest, as well?” </p><p>“I suppose so,” mumbled Nicky. “There are more guests? I thought-”</p><p>“Yeah, me too.”</p><p>Nicky looked lost in thought for a moment and Joe was happy to observe the way his eyebrows knit together in confusion. When he got caught staring, the stars behind his eyes only glinted with delight. </p><p>“Sorry, I… I’m not really a social person,” excused himself Nicky, already looking for any means of escape. </p><p>“That’s fine. I understand,” said Joe and took a step back to not make him feel trapped. “Anyway, are you going for that dinner at 9?”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“That makes two of us then,” chimed Joe.</p><p>Something eased up inside Nicky judging by the way his face relaxed into a small smile. He nodded and held out a hand for Joe to go down the stairs, following him.</p><p>“So, you work on the vaccine as well?” asked Nicky shyly.</p><p>“Vaccine?” Joe looked back at him with a scrunched up face. “Christ, no. I’m a professor. Art history.”</p><p>Nicky looked taken back by his answer, both of them sharing a confused laugh.</p><p>“Art history?” asked Nicky rhetorically, rolling the words on his tongue like a piece of candy, trying to guess the flavor.</p><p>Joe hummed in agreement and carried on with the conversation, “Vaccine? Are you a scientist? A doctor?”</p><p>“Doctor,” Nicky said, way too shy. “I got asked by Mr. Merrick to oversee some clinical trials.”</p><p>“Wow, a doctor,” Joe shot him a look of awe and Nicky’s ears turned red.</p><p>“Being a professor is just as deserving of praise,” he muttered back. “History, I could manage. But art?” Nicky mocked himself with a scoff and Joe liked the way his arms flew about when he spoke.</p><p>They appeared back in the entrance hall and both of them realized they had no clue where to go next.</p><p>“So, the lady said something about ‘hunter’s room’. Any idea where that is?”</p><p>“None,” said Nicky and looked hopelessly around in hope of a direction sign.</p><p>“It’s right here,” said a woman’s voice and both men looked her way.</p><p>She was leaning against a rich decorated doorway, crossed arms and wearing a black leather jacket and skinny jeans tucked in shin high boots. Her black hair was cut just under her ears, curling around them in unruly waves. </p><p>Joe and Nicky looked at each other, seeking out whether one of them knew who she was.</p><p>“You’re the last ones to come and the jerk says that we can’t start without you. Come,” she said with little patience, beckoning them.</p><p>“I’m sorry, who are you?” asked Joe and stepped forward.</p><p>“One of the guests, come,” she insisted and disappeared in the room behind her.</p><p>Both of them shrugged and followed her, walking through two ridiculously rich rooms before entering the hunter’s room. </p><p>It was less a room and more a hall, plastered with deep green wallpaper decorated with golden symbols. Long red curtains were draped over the ceiling-to-floor windows, piling at the floor and every wall had at least one tapestry, depicting a hunt or a celebration. Nicky wondered whether Joe appreciated such art, because he sure didn’t. All the furniture was wooden and solid, with small lion paws carved into their legs. It screamed expensive and borderline tacky for anyone but monarchs in the 17th century. Nicky hated the 17th century. Joe did too.</p><p>Unbeknown to them, most of the people at the table shared their opinion. There were four of them, waiting at the huge table that was covered in dishes filled with food. Aside from the woman in black they both spotted Copley smiling at them, and two people they were yet to know - a young woman and a blonde man that looked more than tipsy.</p><p>“Gentlemen! I see that you already met.”</p><p>Joe and Nicky shared a look that was oddly familiar for technical strangers and both of them sat down.</p><p>“I’m sorry if you had to wait for us,” apologized Nicky, quickly scanning the occupants.</p><p>“No trouble,” said Copley. ” Now that we are all here, I think the time is fit for a small introduction.”</p><p>Copley’s guests were a grateful crowd, all watching him with intent eyes as he stood up.</p><p>“Everyone, I’d like to thank doctor Nicholas Smith, an experienced army doctor, and professor Joseph Jones, Berlin’s primary expert in art history, for joining us,” started Copley, waving a hand their way as he spoke. “Sitting here are Miss Nile Freeman,” he pointed at Nile who shyly met everyone’s eyes as a greeting. “An Art History prodigy. She will assist professor Jones with art piece evaluation.” Joe’s eyebrow jerked up and he performed a small respectful bow when Nile looked his way. She turned red and didn’t fight the smile on her face. “And Sebastien Le Livre. A… man with a... business, in France,” said Copley and let his arm down in defeat, watching Livre. There weren’t many words to describe the Frenchman.</p><p>And they weren’t needed when the man in question laughed roughly, his hair falling into his eyes as he declared with glee “I’m the boss of a few not so legal establishments on the outskirts of Paris. Cocaine, some speed, you know the shit.”</p><p>People at the table shared a look of concern, except for Andrea - who smirked. Joe laughed,  perhaps thinking he was kidding, or just humoring the absurdity of it.</p><p>“Not really in line with all of you,” Livre mumbled and leaned back in his chair, the sunglasses he still had on slid down to the tip of his nose as he slowly focused on each chair and who sat in it. “Seems like I got mixed up in the wrong box of puzzle,” he mumbled, putting on a drunken smile and throwing up his arms as he continued, “Please. It’s just Sebastien. To all of you. We’re all friends here.”</p><p>Copley cleared his throat and looked at Andrea, the last to be introduced. She looked his way and again, Copley found himself rethinking the immediate steps he was about to make.</p><p>“And miss Andrea Black. An honorable guest,” he said to all and no one in particular and quickly sat back down.</p><p>With an unspoken permission from Copley, everybody began to eat. Livre kept his plate empty as he poured himself another wine of glass, at least a third one. Joe, taking a first bite and chewing it for way too long, watched Nicky with interest that sparked back on the hallway outside his room. The others intrigued him too, Nile especially, who has been avoiding to meet his eyes. When she slipped and Joe smiled at her, she turned the same color as the tomato on her plate. </p><p>“Just out of curiosity, Mr. Copley,” said Joe, turning his attention to their host. “Does Mr. Merrick usually schedule all his meetings on the same day? In this house?”</p><p>“No,” Copley said without missing a beat, offering a confident smile. “I’m afraid Mr. Merrick holds all of you in high regard.” Livre chuckled into his glass. “He believes meeting each one of is of the highest importance and thus arranged this house - a special place for a special cooperation. With each of you,” Copley continued and stopped. He could tell when he was losing his audience. “I’m not gonna lie to you, I don’t really understand these filler words either. Mr. Merrick is a young powerful man. In this time and age, face is almost everything. My guess is, he just wants to impress you all. Wants to set a good enough first impression.”</p><p>A few humble looks proved to Copley that his strategy worked and his words were eaten up. They kept eating. </p><p>Not even a minute later Tony came by and whispered something to Copley, following which he stood up and excused himself from the table and left the room together with her.</p><p>The room fell silent except for the sound of utensils being used and wine being sipped. Unlike the others, Joe looked visibly uncomfortable in the silence.</p><p>“So, miss Freeman,” he started and Nile stilled like a deer in headlights. “You study art history? Which university?”</p><p>“University of Chicago,” she said to her fork.</p><p>“Ah, I lectured there in 2010. Great place. Looking forward to working with you.”</p><p>Nile finally meets his gaze without fighting it and gives him a shyful nod sealed with a smile.</p><p>“You’re an army doctor?” asked Andrea, watching Nicky.</p><p>He nodded in agreement, obviously not wanting to share much more. </p><p>“Which army?” she pushed on, getting a scolding look from Joe, perhaps undeservedly-so.</p><p>Nicky answered after a short pause, “Forze armate italiane.<em> ” </em></p><p>She hummed in thought and leaned back on her chair, one arm swung around the back of it.</p><p>“Not many wars with Italy these days,” she wondered out loud. “NATO missions?” </p><p>This time he met her head on, looking into her eyes. His face stayed completely still and unreadable - actually, he looked confident now, the nervousness from before gone. They held the contact for almost a minute before Nicky nodded. He scrunched up his nose, blinked and looked back to his plate. Something about the woman was off. He recognized the look in her eyes.</p><p>“Nobody’s gonna ask me anything? Come on, I’m here for the takin’,” begged Livre and laid his head on the table.</p><p>“What do your clients call you, Sebastien? You must’ve earned yourself a name,” asked Andrea, surprisingly more chatty than she looked before.</p><p>At this, the blonde man finally perked up, sitting up straight.</p><p>“Booker,” he said with a grin.</p><p>Joe, Andrea and Nicky all caught themselves in a laugh. Nicky was the only one who tried to hide it.</p><p>“Doesn’t le livre mean… book?” said Nile without realizing it was out loud.</p><p>“What can I say, I’m not of the original folk.”</p><p>“Were you serious with the drugs, Booker?” asked Joe, saying his name way too slow, and poured himself a glass of wine.</p><p>“Sure was,” said Booker and took a swig, finishing off his glass. “Our boy Merrick said he was interested. Hope he doesn’t want to spice some of his pills to make ‘em more fun.” Booker laughed into his glass, again. The faces around the table turned serious though, Nicky gripped a fork a bit too hard.</p><p>“Why are you telling us all this?” asked Nicky sternly. It was enough to turn the mood around. Everybody stopped eating and the atmosphere thickened. Nicky held Booker in a stare that could as well be an iron grip on his shoulders. “If you’re a narco then there’s at least a dozen of your private army docked somewhere in the house, probably armed with AK-47’s.” Joe gripped the stem of his glass and froze up, listening intently. Andrea leaned in and against the table and Nile sacked back in her chair. “Problem is, there are none,” continued Nicky.</p><p>“Maybe there are,” cut him off Booker and poured another glass.</p><p>“There aren’t,” he said with confidence, staring Booker down. “So either you’re lying or you’re a man with a deathwish. What kind of a drug dealer would fetch sketchy deals outside their country all alone, let alone in a highly surveilled private residence of a pharma CEO?”</p><p>“I was just curious,” said Booker and leaned back in his chair, balancing the glass on its edge.</p><p>“You must be stupid to take such risks.”</p><p>“What can I say? You only live once, right?” said Booker and offered his glass up in toast. With a sad smile and a wink at Nicky, he gulped down the wine, grabbed the bottle and left.</p><p>Once the sound of his steps disappeared, there was only silence. Nicky watched the tablecloth bunching under his fingers until he felt a pat on his back. It was Joe. The contact surprised him but he accepted the gesture.</p><p>“You got a point,” said Andrea, taking a bite out of a pastry. “Dealt with narcos before?”</p><p>He didn’t answer, not liking being in the spotlight of the conversation. He excused himself in a rush and left the table as well.</p><p>“Nicky,” called Joe and went after him, saying quickly goodnight to Andrea and Nile. The young woman was visibly overwhelmed in Andrea’s presence, not knowing what to say and clearly complementing to leave as well.</p><p>“Afghanistan or Iraq?” asked Andrea while eating, brushing crumbs off her hand. </p><p>Surprised, Nile swallowed the nothing in her throat before answering with “Afghanistan.”</p><p>“You got the look on you,” said Andrea and gave Nile a weak smile. “They all do.”</p><p>“Have you been?”</p><p>She just nodded as an answer.</p><p>“When?” asked Nile.</p><p>“Doesn’t matter. They’re all the same,” said Andrea. “Did you join the military because you didn’t have a scholarship?”</p><p>“Yeah,” murmured Nile. “I wanted to make some money first.”</p><p>“Was it worth it?”</p><p>Nile’s answer was just an empty stare. She wanted to say yes but never ordered herself to actually open her mouth and say it. Andrea got up and grabbed the plate with the pastries.</p><p>“Get some sleep, kid. This will be interesting,” she said and walked off, taking the plate with her.</p><p>It started raining outside and Nile was thankful for the raindrops that danced on the window panes. They made her feel not so alone.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Little chats</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Nile woke up in the morning, she knew right away this was one of <em> those </em> days. The rising sun, that only barely shone from behind the blue horizont, sang that this was one of those days when her bones were too heavy under her skin and her muscles ached to be strained and put to test. She put on her sneakers and ran. Circling the estate’s walls, she ran outside the gate and made her way to a nearby forest. Moss and mud from last night’s rain stuck to her shoes in layers. The cold morning breeze felt good circulating through her lungs and scratching at her throat. She was back in bootcamp. She heard her drill instructor yelling “What form is that, Freeman?! You call that a run, Freeman?! Watch your step or you’ll trip with those splayfeet!”</p><p>It felt good as much as it hurt, remembering those long days of training when she’d go to bed crying from pain. She grinned a smile. She chased after the feeling like a wolf would after a prey, pushing herself more and more. The slightest hint of sore muscle meant to push on, to pick up the pace.</p><p>She emerged on a clearing soaked with dew that hung on tall blades of grass like little pearls would. The heaving in her chest begged for the adrenaline to hold but Nile knew it was already over. She steadied her breaths and leaned on her knees. It was gone.</p><p>When she stood back up, as far as her eye could see laid a thick cloud of morning fog, crawling lazily at her feet. The sun had climbed higher and now shone through the tufts of it like through glass. Somewhere nearby, a small stream was whispering as it tumbled across stones and pebbles. Nile watched the wetness collect on her palms when she walked through the tall grass.</p><p>Like day and night, her way back to the mansion was sluggish. She had the hood of her jogging jacket on and her feet treading like she didn’t know how to take each step. When she checked, the short needle on her watch was yet to reach the number 6. It was as if it didn’t want to make the final step, waiting for the long needle to come and push it. Perhaps it was holding onto a hope that it could slow down time itself if it never announced the full hour.</p><p>The garden behind the mansion was beautiful. It leaned onto the house like a wave during tide, crashing against the old brick walls in ropes of bougainvillea that sprouted with colors. Nile felt deserving of a little rest among the flowers, settling down on a bench under a bower embraced by rose bushes.</p><p>“Couldn’t sleep either?” asked a husky voice.</p><p>Nile jumped but already knew who she’d see when she turned around. Booker was slouched against the bench she was sitting on, wearing the same clothes he had during dinner, only dirtier. The bottle he took from the table laid in the mud next to him and demonstrated its emptiness as it rolled away from his hand, clanking against pebbles. Nile’s disgust was first replaced by pity, then interest. He didn’t look drunk anymore.</p><p>“But I gotta say, you dealt with it much better than I did. Morning jog?” he laughed at himself. “I feel like that would kill me.”</p><p>His index finger and thumb rested on his temples, shielding his eyes from any light. He hung his head low.</p><p>“What kind of a drug dealer are you?” muttered Nile with disbelief and it sounded like a scold.</p><p>He laughed again and it was almost endearing.</p><p>“I’m not really a drug dealer, per say,” he mumbled. “I climbed high enough to just give orders. The others deal the drugs for me.”</p><p>“Whatever, man.”</p><p>She didn’t even try to hide the defeat in her voice as she stood up. Her feet started off towards the door but they wavered and stopped. Nile turned to see Booker in full, a pitiful sight of a pitiful man. He wasn’t trying to stop her or anything, just lowered his hand and looked up at her with squinting eyes. He shot her a smile that was too light to be sincere.</p><p>“Get up,” she ordered as she walked back to him.</p><p>Maybe it was the tone of her voice or the genuine disbelief at her help that kept Booker silent as he obeyed. She stuffed her arm under his and ignored the smell of booze when she led him inside the house. Everybody was still fast asleep when Nile ushered Booker into his room and threw him on his bed.</p><p>“Jesus, kid. Are you even of age?” he said and gave her a dirty smirk.</p><p>“You’re obviously not anymore,” she shot back, her eyes had anger that Booker respected. “Getting this wrecked. You’re sad. Nothing but a sad old man.”</p><p>She said those words with contempt, her lips curling in and nose crunching up. Then she went into his bathroom to fill up the bath and left him there, staring at the spot where she’d stood.</p><p>The stinging in his eyes was nothing new, not even the feeling of his organs shrinking into themselves out of shame. Booker sat up and rested elbows on knees, tangling his hands into his hair. </p><p>“That sounds about right,” he mumbled and forced himself up on his feet. </p><p>He shrugged off his coat and took off his shoes. Nile came back into the room, visibly surprised to see him standing.</p><p>“I got it, kid,” he said. “Not my first time being trashy. You can go.”</p><p>She gave him a look of doubt and he answered with a smile that looked no less sad than those before.</p><p>“Get yourself in line,” she said and puffed her chest out, pulled her chin up and walked out of his room.</p><p>He’d lie if he said he was sorry that she saw him like this. What for was being sorry? He’d get trashed again, and again. With a sigh, he stripped from his sweaty, sticky clothes and walked into the bathroom. The tub of hot water and suds looked too good, too pure to be disturbed. He took a shower instead.</p><p> </p><p>Nile stomped back to her room - so much bigger than any she ever stayed in - and for reasons she couldn’t understand, she was furious, upset. With every blink of her eyes, she saw Booker smiling his sad little smile and it made her skin crawl with goosebumps and the hair on her neck stand up. Her phone was the way out of her head when she played a song - I’ll Be Good by Jaymes Young. That would help, she thought. She sunk into the pillows and closed her eyes, stuffing her ears with the buds. </p><p> </p><p>One wall over in the room shut off all light, among scrunched up pillows and kicked up blankets, Andrea was screaming into the sheets. Her hair was messed up from pressing the covers over her head and her nails were bitten to the quick. The morning sun that pried her puffy eyes open meant her night binge was over and she had to get up, but it took more than an hour for her legs to finally carry her. She avoided the mirror while she filled her tub and once the water rose enough, she sat on the edge and slid down like a lifeless weight. It didn’t feel that hard anymore, to sink under the surface and watch the bubbles of her breath crash against it. The chilliness got under her skin quickly, rising bumps along her skin. But the pain no longer reached her, so there was no struggle to close her eyes while her numbing fingers gripped the edges, keeping her down, nails scratching the marble. </p><p><em> Maybe this is it, </em> she thought. </p><p><em> Maybe this time it will work, </em> she repeated again, <em> you can do something right for once. </em></p><p>And she was disappointed when she resurfaced, gasping for air.</p><p>This time, as she was putting on her usual set of black, she made sure to look into the mirror. Her hair was no longer messy and her eyes dragged no dark circles and carried no signs of the tears gluing them together not too long ago. Deeming herself presentable enough, Andrea grabbed a pack of cigarettes from her bag and opened up her window, propping herself up on the ledge.</p><p>She smoked and watched the bad habit leave her lips in thick columns. The view of the estate was oddly domestic and she scoffed at herself for thinking so. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a man with a dog, standing serenely on the garden terrace, blowing out ribbons of smoke through his teeth. Andrea smirked when she recognized the man from last night - the army doctor, Nicky. He stared into the garden, seemingly enjoying the rising sun shining into his eyes until he had to shield them with his hand. Once he finished his coffin nail and stubbed it on the ground, he took it with him and walked inside. Andrea turned towards the sun like he did, wondering how he could have lasted staring at it for so long. She opted to look at the shadows instead, the murky fields and dark forests in the distance - that way her eyes didn’t hurt. The whiskey glass Andrea took for an ashtray held three butts when she closed the window. </p><p> </p><p>It was nearing 9 when she entered the most humble looking room she could find. The walls were decorated in soft blues and aside from a few artistic statues looming in the corners, the furniture was decent and comfy looking. Andrea clutched the empty plate in her hand and set it on the table positioned in front of big french windows that overlooked the estate’s garden. The table had been set with empty plates lined with cutlery, bowls of fruit and carafes with juice. Guess I’m not too late for breakfast, she thought and leaned over to pluck a grape from the bunch overspilling from one of the bowls.</p><p>Soft, distant conversation made its way into her ears and Andrea stalked its source to an unassuming door that tried to look like a part of the wall, only the knob betraying its facade. She took it and opened it a crack. Behind it was a kitchen, now filled with laughter from the maid standing at the stove and Nicky, smiling and cutting vegetables at the counter across from her.</p><p>“<em>You can’t be serious. You’re from Genoa? </em>” asked the maid warmly, speaking Italian.</p><p>“Si, si. The world is a small place,” answered Nicky.</p><p>“<em>W</em><em>ell, thank God for your help, Nicky. Finally, some skilled hands in the kitchen</em>.”</p><p>He chuckled warmly and Andrea noticed the way the morning sun leaned into his cheekbones and shone through his hair like through a messy halo. Not wanting to eavesdrop, she cleared her throat and both of them looked at her. The maid turned flustered, immediately went to Nicky and took the knife from him.</p><p>“<em> Grazie </em>,” she whispered, looking down at the cutting board like her life depended on it, “Go and sit down, sir. Ma’am,” she said back in English and flashed a polite smile towards Andrea. “The breakfast will be served soon.”</p><p>Visibly unwilling, Nicky protested. </p><p>“Thank you, Nicky. It’s not needed. You helped so much already.” </p><p>“I didn’t want to interrupt,” spoke up Andrea. “Just woke up early. Can I help too, by any chance?” </p><p>Nicky’s lips twitched up with surprise and Tony stood flabbergasted. It took her a few seconds to snap out of it and mumble an apology followed by an explanation as to why guests weren’t to whisk egg yolks in the kitchen. But by then Nicky already took the wooden tray prepared on the counter and made his towards the door.</p><p>“I’ll take care of the deliveries,” he smiled and left.</p><p> Zeus’ paws clicked on the shiny floor as he followed close behind. Andrea watched the animal leave with a smirk.</p><p>Andrea walked up to Tony and picked up the cutting knife, taking Nicky’s place. </p><p>“I’m Andrea by the way,” she said. The kind smile on her didn’t look out of place and Tony returned it.</p><p>“Please don’t tell Mr. Copley that I let the dog in here.”</p><p>“Sealed shut,” said Andrea and threw away the imaginy key from her mouth.</p><p> </p><p>Walking up the stairs, Nicky analysed the breakfast laid on the tray; fluffy scrambled eggs with a whole grain toast and grilled cherry tomatoes still on a stem. Nothing beats the basics, he thought. In the back of his mind, he hoped the little act of kindness of bringing such offerings would serve as enough of an apology to their recipient; Joe.</p><p> </p><p>It was him who went after Nicky last night, once he got upset at dinner and stormed out like a child, it was Joe who followed him to make sure he was okay. Nicky felt immature the moment he stepped foot outside the room - a feeling he thought he had forgotten long ago. So when Joe stopped him halfway up the stairs, he felt ashamed for luring out his help.</p><p>“Hey. Nicky, are you all right?” asked Joe and his voice seeped with care and concern.</p><p>Nicky was surprised at how genuine the professor seemed and didn’t let himself doubt the man’s intentions.</p><p>“I am,” he answered solemnly and hung his head low, looking at his nails scratching the railing. “I shouldn’t have stormed out like that. I apologize.”</p><p>“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” pressed on Joe and walked a step higher. “I mean, except for maybe verbally grilling a drug dealer. But he was kind of asking for it. Ouch, what a roast,” said Joe and made a sizzling sound that broke into a chuckle.</p><p>Nicky scoffed. He wasn’t sure whether he was laughing at himself or not. Joe’s smile slowly eased up behind his beard but he kept his eyes on Nicky all the same. They spoke of kindness and understanding and suddenly, Nicky felt a spike of fear from thinking that. He cleared his throat and looked away.</p><p>“I should go to bed, I feel tired.”</p><p>Without hanging back to wait for Joe’s response, Nicky shamefully walked up the stairs and into his room, shutting the door behind him. Zeus came up when he slid onto the ground with his head in hands, and licked his face clean when the tears started crawling out of them. He lied there and hugged Zeus close, sobbing until the tears matted the dog’s fur together, mourning for things he could never have.</p><p> </p><p>When Nicky arrived at the door, he hoped to be correct in assuming they belonged to Joe. The tips of his ears were turning red and he knew, just as well as he was aware of the heaviness of guilt that was squeezing his lungs. Zeus sat down next to his feet orderly, panting at the door and awaiting the knock Nicky knew he eventually needed to make.</p><p>Be it faith or just a circumstance, the door opened without Nicky making the move. And there stood Joe, wearing jeans and a tight shirt, hair a bit tussled. He stiffened up when he saw Nicky, but then quickly scanned him from toes up and smiled. Fluid as ever, he leaned on his doorframe.</p><p>“Hey, are you the room service I ordered?” he asked.</p><p>“Funnily enough, yeah,” responded shyly Nicky but the flirting was not lost on him. He held up the tray with breakfast. “I heard you wanted your breakfast delivered to your room. Just wanted to help out.”</p><p>Joe hummed and said “Yeah, I wanted to work on a paper I’m writing. How nice of you. Thanks.”</p><p>A sharp little bark caught the attention of both of them and Joe smiled at the dog at Nicky’s feet.</p><p>“Sorry! Sorry. Zeus, shush. This is Zeus,” Nicky spitted out, too quickly. “He doesn’t like to be overlooked.”</p><p>Joe chuckled and held out a hand for Zeus to sniff, asking for permission to pat him. It was obviously granted to him when Zeus walked over to sit next to him and leant on his leg for support, enjoying the ear rub Joe granted him.</p><p>“Good boy,” mumbled Joe and Nicky’s heart melted a little bit at the sight. “Hey, don’t stand there. Come inside.” </p><p>Following the wave of Joe’s hand, Nicky did. He set the tray on a bedside table, observing the documents laid on the sheets next to a laptop. Under some papers covered in text, Nicky spotted a leather bound journal, thick yellowed paper covered in charcoal lines were peeking out of it. Meanwhile, Joe went on to rub Zeus’ belly, who was now happily sprawled on the floor, tongue hanging out of his mouth, giving Nicky a dumb look. Now Nicky was embarrassed, mouthing little scolds at Zeus’ dumb happy face.</p><p>“He’s so cheap,” he remarked, huffing out a defeated breath at the domestic sight. With a laugh, Joe stood up and turned his full attention back to Nicky.</p><p>“Should I take offense? He only recognizes when he’s in good hands.”</p><p>Nicky didn’t even realize how easy it was to smile when around Joe. It felt a chore to ruin the smile on Joe’s face and get to the point he wanted to make.</p><p>“I wanted to apologize,” he said softly once their laugh died down. “For last night. It was kind of you to be concerned. I didn’t want to be rude. But I just walked away so… I’m sorry.”</p><p>Joe didn’t look upset, he didn’t even look annoyed as Nicky had expected. He radiated warmth and understanding and when he stayed silent it felt as if it was more for Nicky to compose himself than for Joe to think about his answer.</p><p>“It’s all fine, Nicky,” he said finally, “And thank you for bringing my breakfast.”</p><p>“Ah, no problem,” Nicky huffed out and hoped it wasn’t obvious that he completely forgot this was about food at first. He felt his mind at peace, now that he has apologized. Something about Joe made him feel all kinds of soft. Something about Joe’s eyes made his stomach spool into a puddle of heat. It was as if he knew him his whole life, as if the warmth in them was the most familiar embrace. It was with regret that he remembered not to indulge himself in spending time with him.</p><p>“I’ll leave you to your work,” he said and looked at the documents scattered about, immediately contradicting his words by saying “Sorry, do you draw?”</p><p>Joe’s face flashed of disappointment and then relief, slipping into a humble smile that he hid when he faced the floor.</p><p>“I dabble,” he said, shrugging his shoulders.</p><p>“Dabble?” asked Nicky loudly, doubtfully.</p><p>With a silent permission granted from Joe, he took the journal that he then realized served more as a folder as many sheets slid out of it, landing on the floor.</p><p>“Sorry! I didn’t mean to,” stuttered Nicky. He crouched to pick the papers and Joe did too, halting himself only when he realized Nicky was not picking them up anymore, but staring at one sheet in his hands. Joe squinted an eye when he realized which one, trying to hide the heat that materialized in his face. They stood up together, slower once their eyes met. Joe’s brows furrowed with concern once he recognized the look on Nicky, who was staring back at him red like a rose but with wide, uneasy eyes.</p><p>“Nicky?” checked on him Joe, speaking up first. He took a cautious step towards the man, lifting an arm to reach for him. Nicky dodged before they could touch, taking a step back and handing the drawing to Joe at an arm’s length.</p><p>“I thought it looked like me,” he said and laughed pathetically.</p><p>Joe carefully took it, not looking away from him. </p><p>“It does,” he said gently, tracing his words with a soft smile. “I got a bit inspired when we met. I hope you don’t mind?” The terrified look of regret that washed over Joe made Nicky snap out of his trans. He wished the other man was not standing right in front of him so he could slap himself.</p><p>“No, not at all,” said Nicky shakily. “I just don’t think I’ve ever seen a portrait of myself. It’s well done.” Similarly to a dam letting its water loose, Nicky’s face turned red, ears heated up and voice shaky. He ran a hand through his hair and urged himself to resist asking for a smoke to calm down. Like a mirror reflection, Joe’s face lit up as well. With the power of a star, including the heat radiating off of him, Nicky thought. The soft crinkles around his eyes made staring at him not rude somehow and the chest chuckle he let out sounded like a song Nicky had long forgotten.</p><p>“Thank you. I always say that the art is only half as beautiful as what it depicts,” said Joe and his voice lowered.</p><p>“Oh, well,” Nicky threw up a laugh, “Have other historians ever poked fun at you for that?”</p><p>The man before him grinned with his teeth and didn’t comment any further. Nicky wondered whether he did all this on purpose or was unaware of how flirtatious he was. Surely this professor wasn’t just walking around and eye fucking people, was he? The thought intimated Nicky almost as much as it excited him. Trying to ignore the strain in his muscles and pants, he threw up his hands and moved to the door. Zeus followed suit. “I will see you after breakfast?”</p><p>“Sure,” Joe pushed through his teeth and smacked his lips, “See you, Nicky.”</p><p>“See you.”</p><p>It was a relief to escape Joe’s room. At least for Nicky’s fast beating heart.</p><p> </p><p>Alone, Joe leaned against the door once it shut behind Nicky. Taking a deep breath, he wondered just why he was doing this to himself. His smile slid off his face when he came down from cloud nine. It was nothing but cruel to start something with anyone. Don’t mistake being kind with being selfish, he told himself.</p><p>He took his drawing and studied the way his pencil strokes didn’t do justice to Nicky’s eyes. Those ocean deep ponds of blue cast in the shadow of his brow bone and eyelashes that drove him mad since they stared through him for the first time. Joe was obsessed with his eyes the moment he saw him. </p><p>He took the drawing and stuffed it back into the journal with unknown-before fury. He hid the leather bound book among his clothes in the dresser drawer and slumped down on the bed, shoulders slouched and head hung low. There was the feeling again - ultimate loneliness that closed around him like tight walls. He spun the thick golden ring around his index finger and then closed both hands into fists. His muscles didn’t ease up until he was determined to let the man go. By then, his nails had dug under his skin and drew blood. </p><p> </p><p>Breakfast was served to a full table. Only one chair was empty - the professor’s chair - reminded himself Booker. He himself sat awfully ordinarily in contrast to his last night’s behaviour. Thanks to Nile, he looked much more presentable as well. The sticky leather jacket with an awful print from before was replaced by a simple black jacket with light blue button up underneath and his hair didn’t resemble a sweaty mop anymore. Unlike last night, he wore no sunglasses and opted to eat his breakfast instead of downing another bottle of wine.</p><p>Next to Booker sat Andrea, chomping on an apple with her elbows on the table and her boots on the chair across from her. Nile was sulking away at the far end away from them, poking her scrambled eggs with a fork. Two seats over was Nicky, eating a cucumber slice awfully long, chewing mindlessly while he was lost in thought.</p><p>Copley walked into the room and tore apart the silence.</p><p>“Good morning, everyone,” he said in a loud, confident tone. “I hope your night has been pleasant. Are you well cared for so far?”</p><p>“Where is Merrick?” Andrea asked and sat upright.</p><p>“Mr. Merrick is unfortunately still in London.”</p><p>Booker smirked at the annoyed sound that escaped Andrea. She grabbed a fork and Copley would have bet on her stabbing it into the table. None of his guests looked happy to be stuck in here, especially not together. </p><p>“But I have good news for you,” Copley said, fixing up a button on his sweater, “I received a call from Mr. Merrick this morning. He’ll join you all here, on his estate, tomorrow at noon. So don’t worry, your wait here will not be longer than it must be.”</p><p>If he shot a fearful look at Andrea, he would have never admitted it. She stared still at the apple core in her hand, unlike the others who looked relieved to know Merrick didn’t drag them out here for nothing. Zeus growled under the table.</p><p>“Unfortunately, there’s some immediate business I must tend to in London, as well. If you excuse me, I'll be back around lunch time. In the meantime, anything in this house is at your pleasure,” he said and opened his arms in a gesture. “At Mr. Merrick's orders, of course. For anything you need, ask Tony, the maid. I’ll see you all soon.”</p><p>He left with a polite smile, not sparing a look at the full breakfast table. Booker shrugged his shoulders and eased back into his chair, tearing in half the croissant in his hands. The shellshock look that stuck to Andrea’s face made his insides twist in a way that was too familiar for comfort. His gaze lingered on her.</p><p>“Where is professor Jones?” asked shyly Nile. She looked at Nicky, expecting him to answer which caused the man to blush.</p><p>“He said he’s got some work to do. I suppose he’ll join us later.”</p><p>“How do you know that?” prodded Booker, closing an eye.</p><p>“I brought him breakfast,” admitted Nicky, explaining further, “I wanted to help Tony.”</p><p>Nile smiled a bit and hoped it wasn’t visible that she got stung with jealousy. A small sly smile crawled across Booker’s features too, but he didn’t say anything else. Instead, he chose to stare at Nile and her pretty little smile. He recognized the nervousness in her, the giddiness.</p><p>“So, you’re an art student?” he asked and visibly caught Nile off guard. And she wasn’t the only one, Nicky was just as surprised that someone who painted himself the way Booker did last night would be interested in whatever any of them did.</p><p>She just nodded as an answer but decided to clarify, “Art<em> history </em>.”</p><p>“Right, right. Sorry,” he said, waving his hand around. “I got <em> Beach at Scheveningen in Stormy Weather </em> hanging above my dining table back in Paris.”</p><p>Nile’s eyes bulged out like they were about to fall out of their sockets. She regained her composure pretty quickly though, stuffing more eggs in her mouth.</p><p>“You mean the one that’s <em> stored </em> in Van Gogh’s museum in Amsterdam?” she mumbled with vigor not to believe his words.</p><p>“That fake? No way.”</p><p>“It’s not fake.”</p><p>“It never returned after it got stolen back in 2002.”</p><p>Now Booker had Nile’s interest, as well as Nicky’s and Andrea’s. The young girl almost let the food in her mouth drop out as she locked Booker in a stare.</p><p>“You’re kidding,” she said.</p><p>Booker threw his hands up in defense, “I would swear on my mother but she’s dead.”</p><p>“Did you,” implied Nile and choked on the words, gripping her fork way too hard.</p><p>“Steal it? No. But I got an offer to buy from a friend of mine in 2008. Good friend. It cost me just some change.” He drank from his glass while not leaving Nile’s eyes, smiling at the disbelief she was beaming with. “You’d believe me if you saw the one in Amsterdam.”</p><p>“That’s impossible,” Nile said and snorted a laugh, “The best experts verified that-”</p><p>“It’s fake,” said a voice from behind them.</p><p>Joe was standing in the doorway, hands in pockets of comfy looking black jeans. He laughed and leaned against the frame, pointing at Booker who held up his glass. “He’s right. I was wondering where the real one ended up. And it’s in a drug dealer’s den. Go figure.”</p><p>“Doesn’t mean I don’t have taste.”</p><p>“I wouldn’t be surprised if it was soaked in booze that you spilt on it,” scolded Nile. Booker just shrugged.</p><p>“If that’s what you think,” he said and kept eating.</p><p>Joe walked up to the table and sat down next to Nicky and Nile, sharing a polite bow with Andrea. Nile could hardly believe that rather than greet Joe, she stared down Booker’s tired face and looked for the lie. When she didn’t find any, she let herself turn back into a student too shy to face her idol and dug her gaze into her plate. But Joe didn’t share her intentions, choosing to speak to her directly instead.</p><p>“But those pieces in the entrance hall seemed more genuine. Do you agree, Nile? Can I call you Nile?”</p><p>“Of course,” she stuttered, facing him now.</p><p>“Nice. I thought that I’d take a walk around the mansion and check out the art. And the swords, did you notice how many swords there are hung up? Who needs that many swords? We should find out. It seems that we have the time, at least.”</p><p>“We?”</p><p>“You’re coming with me, right? I’d love to hear your opinion.”</p><p>There weren’t many things that brought Nile into a state of shameless happiness, but the attention of her idolized professor definitely qualified as one. She let slip an honest smile and Joe returned it. They settled to go after breakfast.</p><p>“Are you done with the work, professor?” asked Booker.</p><p>“Yes. At least for now. I apologize for not joining you right away - it was rude.”</p><p>“Nah, all good,” assured him Booker and Joe gave him a solemn nod. “Copley came by and then fucked right off again, said he’s got some shit to do in London.” Nicky smirked while chewing his food and Andrea spared a chuckle, Joe just sighed with disappointment. “But,” continued Booker, “He said Merrick’s coming around tomorrow.”</p><p>Joe looked pleased but acknowledged the mention without commenting any further. The surprise on Nicky’s face spoke of interest in the Frenchman’s ways. He wondered why he would fill in Joe; why would he ask Nile about her art? His behaviour betrayed his presentation and Nicky wondered why so. </p><p>“What’d you say that we make the best of it? Throw a party?” offered Booker.</p><p>“What kind of party?” asked Andrea, intrigued. </p><p>The immediate rejection that beamed off Nile, Joe and Nicky let Booker know that his party wouldn’t have the highest attendance and he accepted it without a fight. </p><p>“Maybe just a get together. You and me?” he asked Andrea directly.</p><p>She toyed with a grin tugging on her lips, sliding her nail over the edge of her glass. Then she shrugged her shoulders and offered the glass up for a toast.</p><p>“Sure. I’m down if there’s booze.” </p><p>“There’s always booze where I am,” smiled Booker.</p><p>Nile sighed impatiently, or maybe it was with disappointment. Perhaps Joe was a prophet or could read minds, or was simply just as uncomfortable as she was, because he stood up and offered her a hand, her way out of this conversation and away from this table. They excused themselves and headed for the door to go search the mansion.</p><p>“Don’t be shy to join us,” said Joe to everybody but smiled only at Nicky. He returned it and then the two of them left.</p><p>Not feeling comfortable disrupting an art history tour - where he would feel like a bull stomping through a china shop - neither sitting here among an unpredictable drunk and an unknown woman, Nicky was getting ready to leave to his room. As if Booker felt his eagerness to leave, he chose to hook him back down with a conversation.</p><p>“Where’s the mutt that keeps following you?”</p><p>Nicky turned to face him and stilled for a brief moment. Then took a silent breath and his body eased up.</p><p>“I didn’t want him to bother anyone so he’s waiting in my room.”</p><p>“Bother? What are you talking about? I love dogs,” Booker said with childish light in his eyes. All Nicky offered was a weak smile in return. “But say, you’re an army doctor. That means that you’re on assignments a lot, right?”</p><p>He could tell right away what Booker was implying. The weak excuse of a smile he wore disappeared like a puff of smoke. </p><p>“Who’s taking care of him when you’re gone? Got family? Friends?”</p><p>Like a lion scanning his herd for a wolf, Andrea searched for Booker over the table. Her eyes bore into his and warned him of the steps he was about to make. As if she knew.</p><p>“Yeah, I got a few,” said Nicky calmly. “And the office has got a program for taking care of pets. He’s well taken care of when I’m gone.” He gripped his hands into fists when he finished and Andrea noticed, watching him with wary eyes.</p><p>“Isn’t that a bit cruel? What happens to him if you don’t come back?” prodded Booker and watched Nicky with interest - with inhumane attraction to his pain and discomfort.</p><p>But Nicky didn’t take the bait. Instead, he bit his lip from the inside and leaned back, facing Booker who watched him intently. Fat silence spread into every corner of the room. There was fire behind Nicky’s eyes - a heating flame that was tame and trained like the most loyal soldier. He stayed in Booker’s stare willingly, trying to write down his face and features and searching for the meaning behind those drunk, watery eyes. Andrea hung her head low, watching the men through her eyelashes. Her skin prickled with anticipation of a fight, a shout or a punch. Neither came.</p><p>“I always come back,” said Nicky.</p><p>A harsh laugh escaped Booker, he slapped his hand onto the table.</p><p>“Now that’s some confidence! I like it. I bet the soldiers who get under your hands can be just as confident. You’ve gotta be good.”</p><p>Nicky’s lips twisted into politeness and he stood up. He nodded a goodbye to both of them and left. Booker watched him leave like a predator stalking his prey.</p><p>“Why did you do that?” asked Andrea, toying with her empty glass.</p><p>Booker poured tea into a cup and pulled out a silver flask, almost emptying it into the cup to fill it to the brim. “What do you mean?”</p><p>“You’re testing his limits. Why?” </p><p>“I don’t know. I like to make people feel uncomfortable? I’m an asshole?” he offered her multiple explanations, teasing her to choose. At the same time, he held out the flask.</p><p>“Neither of those,” she mused and reached for the flask. With a gentle throw from Booker, it landed in her palm. She took a swig of the booze. Bitter taste of whiskey and steel engulfed her tongue in a hug. She smacked her lips and closed an eye, tossing the flask back to its owner.</p><p>“Good year,” she mumbled.</p><p>“12 years old, aged in an oak barrel.”</p><p>“And you dump it into an Earl’s Grey.”</p><p>Booker laughed and Andrea mirrored his smile with her own. The tense in her shoulders has disappeared and her chest was no longer tight around her lungs. Watching Booker sip a spiked tea somehow made her feel at peace. She wondered whether she liked his company because she saw herself in him and understood, or because she saw herself in him and was disgusted.</p><p>“You’re looking for something here,” wondered Andrea out loud, almost whispering. “And it’s not business. You came here for something.”</p><p>“You’re looking too much into it. I just like to fuck with people.”</p><p>“Is that a wedding ring?” she asked and stared at the many rings on his hand.</p><p>He lowered the cup and inspected his hand, holding it out in front of him as if it wasn’t his own. He only shot Andrea a quick glance but he knew which ring she was looking at. He rolled it around his finger with his index and thumb. He faced her with a sad mouth, feebly hidden behind a smirk.</p><p>“It’s old,” she said. Now it was her who watched Booker like a prey, observing his unwillingness to meet her eyes while he numbly thumbed at the simple golden band. He sucked in his left cheek. “Did a friend sell you that as well?”</p><p>She obviously amused him, because he muffled a laugh that shook his shoulders. When he looked into her eyes his own were wet and red.</p><p>“You like to fuck with people too, don’t you?” he asked.</p><p>“Yeah. That’s what I do,” she whispered. She got up and walked over to a cabinet filled with liquor bottles. She took out two whiskey glasses and an expensive looking bottle that she uncorked with her teeth. With a trained grace, she walked back to the table and pulled up a chair next to Booker and poured them both a glass. Then she threw hers back like it was water. “I fuck with people.”</p><p>“I might start to blush,” said Booker and poured her another shot. “So is that why you’re here? Merrick invited you for your ability to fuck with folks?”</p><p>“I don’t think this is about what we <em> do</em>. We all play the same role here.”</p><p>“So, no good guys and bad guys?”</p><p>“If there were, I don’t think I’d wear a white hat,” Andrea laughed.</p><p>“So, a bad guy then?” </p><p>They both sipped the brown liquor and Andrea was astonished at how little it felt necessary to tiptoe around Booker.</p><p>“Join the club,” he said and touched her glass with his. “So, what’s the role? Why are we all here? What do we want?”</p><p>“You already figured it out, Booker. You just want me to confirm.”</p><p>He smirked with just one side of his face, burying his face back into the glass. “We’re here because Merrick wants <em> us</em>, not what we do.”</p><p>“But why?” she asked. Booker put his glass down and they faced each other once more. Flushed and wide eyed, they sat there in silence. </p><p> </p><p>“What’s your assessment, Mr. Merrick?” asked Copley, standing guard behind him.</p><p>Merrick sat at a table surrounded by screens, some showing live feed, some replaying footage from last night or this morning. All showed Nicky, Joe with Nile, Andrea or Booker. Different angles from different rooms, all closely watching the guests.</p><p>“This doesn’t get us anywhere. I think we had enough of their little chatting. Proceed with the tests.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Green light</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You recognize this one?” asked Joe.</p><p>“Is it impressionism?” mused Nile while leaning in closer. The paint had bunched where the brush had slid across the canvas in visibly fuzzy, chaotic strokes. </p><p>“Spot on. Pierre-Auguste Renoir. The impressionism pioneer,” said Joe and leaned back against the railing, scanning individual frames that hung on the wall.</p><p>“Renoir? Didn’t he suffer from arthritis later in his life?” </p><p>“Sure did,” Joe walked to the painting and tilted his head, “An assistant had to put the brush into his shaking hand but it was him who dragged it across. In spite of the pain. He painted like that for twenty years.”</p><p>The intimacy with which Joe spoke made Nile think it was him who placed the brushes into the painter’s hand. She smiled at the thought. </p><p>“Some critics consider it an added value,” she mumbled. When Joe gave her a puzzled smile, she elaborated: “The pain. He suffered from an illness that made it hard to move but still kept painting. It makes the works unique.”</p><p>“Do you believe that, Nile?”</p><p>She correctly assumed that Joe wasn’t looking for an easy, safe answer. So instead, she turned back to the colorful canvas and imagined it hanging in someone’s grandma’s garage. It would have been dusted on for a few years before one of the grandkids decided to make a few bucks and bring it onto the Antique Roadshow, where an expert would appraise it and give them an absurd number that Nile and her mom had betted on. The people would be so surprised and shocked at the gem they had only their car staring at. Thinking that made Nile hide a grin.</p><p>“Yeah,” she said and turned to Joe, “It was a sacrifice he was willing to make for his art. It should be appreciated. You don’t think so, professor?”</p><p>“Just Joe’s fine.”</p><p>“Joe.”</p><p>“No, I think you’re right. Just perhaps that measuring the value of something based on how much pain it cost seems… grotesque to me.”</p><p>He winked and gave her one more smile before they continued strolling through the rooms. Nile felt comfortable in Joe’s presence sooner than she’d thought. Talking to him felt like talking to a long time friend and all her worries about never meeting your heroes dissolved quickly. So, she felt confident enough to start a conversation on her own.</p><p>“How did you know the Van Gogh in Amsterdam is a fake?”</p><p>Joe laughed, “I saw it and recognized the difference.”</p><p>“Did you tell them? I mean, how can the original hang in Booker’s house? That seems so unfair.”</p><p>“Maybe it’s safer there than it would be in a museum.”</p><p>She gave him an ugly look and it made him chuckle.</p><p>“You can’t be serious.”</p><p>“I am.”</p><p>“Really? That,” Nile stopped herself and considered what word to use, “That man?”</p><p>“He had to have a reason to buy it, right? He sounded quite proud of it. Seemed to me like he’d want it protected.”</p><p>“It’s really generous of you to see something good in Booker.”</p><p>Joe just shrugged. “I never said that. Bad people can like art too. I think Booker is just… lost.”</p><p>Nile could agree with that. They continued to the hall upstairs in silence. When she could answer every little question Joe gave her about the art and authors, he seemed impressed. She flushed with joy.</p><p>“How old did you say you were, Nile?” asked Joe and sat down on a couch in the hall.</p><p>“Twenty-seven, why?”</p><p>“What did you do before the U of C?”</p><p>“I was a Marine.”</p><p>“Oh?” he breathed out and hinted for her to go on.</p><p>“There’s not much to say. I didn’t have money to study back then. And my dad was a Marine,” she stopped herself and felt stupid all of sudden. It wasn’t really polite to dump all of her life story onto Joe. But he looked caring, watching her with warm, brown eyes and patiently waiting for her story to continue. She bit her lip and did. “He was KIA when I was little. I don’t remember much of him but I guess I wanted to be like him. Go in his footsteps.”</p><p>She expected Joe to look uncomfortable but his expression didn’t change. He only nodded his head and then sucked in his lips, not saying anything. Nile started to panic and was thankful when he finally spoke.</p><p>“When did you leave the military?”</p><p>She was thankful for the lack of ‘I’m sorry’. “Just about a year ago.”</p><p>“So you’re a freshman?”</p><p>The questions turned into questioning and Nile’s face scrunched up.</p><p>“I am.”</p><p>“Sorry, sorry,” Joe finally smiled at her, sensing her discomfort. “It’s just that, someone with your knowledge, I’d guess you were going for a Master’s by now.”</p><p>The compliment tugged on the right strings within Nile and she blushed. </p><p>“Nope. Just a hobby unfortunately.”</p><p>“You got a bright future ahead of you, Nile,” said Joe and gave her one more encouraging smile. Nile felt good.</p><p> </p><p>It was nearing noon when Nicky entered the garden with Zeus. They were coming in through the entrance gate since they had gone on a walk into the woods. Zeus carried with him a stick that was closer to a log than a branch, and occasionally, he would nudge it into Nicky’s hand for him to throw. They walked into the part where pretty flowers were arranged into shapes with walkways in between them. Nicky sat down on a bench while Zeus ran around, chasing butterflies and dodging flowerbeds.</p><p>The smile on Nicky’s face turned sour when he remembered Booker. He looked down at his hands. His fingers were sticky with tobacco and in his pocket laid a scrunched up pack that held almost a dozen butts. He hadn’t taken any more with him and now was anxious with ideas where to get them.</p><p>“Want one?”</p><p>Nicky looked to his side and saw Copley, offering him a cigarette while having one hanging from his mouth. Unlit. Nicky eyed him warily, well aware of the shift it caused in Copley’s stance. </p><p>“No? I took you for a smoker,” he said and withdrew the offered pack. Nicky got up and went up to him, Copley presented his offer again and this time he accepted.</p><p>“Want light?” Nicky asked with the filter already between his lips and a lighter in hand.</p><p>Copley chuckled, “Thank you.”</p><p>“I didn’t take <em> you </em> for a smoker.”</p><p>“I’m not,” Copley said and coughed upon swallowing the smoke that Nicky blew out the side of his lips. He watched him with a hitched up eyebrow and when Copley’s breath calmed down, his head turned to watch Zeus running through the garden instead.</p><p>“Then you shouldn’t get the high tar ones,” said Nicky and took a long drag. He closed his eyes to block off the rest of his senses. They weren’t needed when he was smoking. All he wanted to feel was the scratch in his throat and the tightness of his lungs. </p><p>“You know this stuff could kill you, doctor?” grinned Copley.</p><p>The look they shared left Copley puzzled and Nicky tired. He sucked the cigarette down to its filter with another drag and stubbed it on the ground, hiding the butt in his palm.</p><p>“That’s kind of the point,” he said.</p><p>“Is that what you do? Save others’ lives and hazard with yours?”</p><p>Now Nicky laughed. It was a sad, mocking laugh and Copley didn’t let it rattle him.</p><p>“I suppose so. People have different reasons for smoking, James. It’s not wise to judge them.”</p><p>“I didn’t mean to judge you, Nicky,” he backpaddled. “I apologize. No harm done?” He offered his hand up for a peace shake. The confused look he received was not surprising. Nicky took his hand nonetheless.</p><p>“Only if I can have one more,” he said with a grin.</p><p>Sharp, stinging pain seared his skin and he winced and pulled his hand back.</p><p>“Shit. Sorry!” cried out Copley. He threw away the cigarette in his hand and reached for Nicky’s arm. “Clumsy hands. I apologize. Is it serious?”</p><p>“No, it’s alright,” said Nicky and quickly tugged his shirt’s sleeve down, holding his wrist. “It happens.”</p><p>“Let me see. I’ll call for Tony, she’s got a first aid kit.”</p><p>“James, I’m a doctor,” said Nicky and grabbed Copley’s shoulder, looking into his eyes. “It’s fine. I’ll patch myself up.” He called for Zeus and they both left the garden in a hurry. </p><p>Copley waited until Nicky was out of sight to pick up the cigarette butt he dropped on the ground.</p><p> </p><p>By the time he arrived at his room, Nicky’s wrist was sealed and without a trace of a burnt. Still, it stung. Stupid incident, he thought as he opened his bag and got out a bandage, wrapping it around a healthy wrist. Now he’d need to put up the facade he hated. Zeus climbed up on the bed and licked Nicky’s face, luring a smile out of him.</p><p>It felt easier with him around. Lonely nights, mornings and afternoons between tours. Nicky knew he was selfish for keeping him. But those big black eyes were the only things keeping him afloat some days.</p><p>He had met Zeus at a program Pets for Vets. Ridiculous, he thought back then. But his commander had thought he wasn’t quite alright after his 3rd tour abroad and forced him to come. And there, lying in a cage, was an old, german shepherd stray. Who would he be to not get him out? </p><p>Zeus had always been grateful. He would lie his big head down on his lap when Nicky cried and dragged him out of bed when he shut off. There were times when Nicky screamed and Zeus howled. And there were times when Nicky wanted to do nothing but run and Zeus always ran with him. Tail wagging and happy and alive. Nicky didn’t know what all Zeus had lived through, but he could guess. And just like Zeus didn’t ask about his past, Nicky didn’t ask about Zeus’. He was determined to make that tiny speck of his life nothing but joy for him. He was just as grateful.</p><p>Someone knocked on the door and Zeus’ ears perked up. Nicky unsticked himself from his bed and opened the door. There stood Booker. Nicky sighed.</p><p>“What do you want, Booker?” he said with exhaustion, scratching his head on the door.</p><p>“Apologize,” said Booker. There was no mischievous smile or mocking in his voice and Nicky warily opened the door. “Tried to end it?” asked Booker in a weak attempt at a joke, pointing at his wrist.</p><p>Nicky looked down at it and cursed himself for already forgetting all about it. He tugged his shirt’s sleeve back over it. Like that would work, he thought.</p><p>“I burnt myself. What do you want, again?” he asked and blinked a few times.</p><p>“As I said, I want to apologize.”</p><p>“For what?” Nicky doubted Booker was self-aware enough to realize his crudeness. “Who put you up to this?”</p><p>“Nobody. Maybe Andrea,” he said as he walked inside the room. Nicky sniffed the air on reflex, smelling alcohol. Booker slumped down on the bed and Zeus carefully lied down next to it, watching them. “That’s the mutt, huh? What’s his name?”</p><p>“Zeus.”</p><p>“C’mere, Zeus,” said Booker and reached for the dog. Zeus came over and sat down in front of him, accepting the hand that patted his head. “He’s a good dog.”</p><p>Nicky hummed in agreement, watching them like a mother would watch her child accepting candy from a stranger in a white van.</p><p>“Look, I don’t want you to think I’m a monster.” </p><p>“You don’t?”</p><p>Booker laughed. “Yeah, I don’t. I know I don’t make good first impressions. But you’re not scared of me.”</p><p>“Hard to be scared of a crazed drunk.”</p><p>The accepting look on Booker’s face made Nicky feel pity. He looked away.</p><p>“Back there, I was a dick. I’m sorry. I just felt like people like us don’t deserve this,” mumbled Booker, watching Zeus’ calm eyes. He patted his ears and stroked his fur with care. Then he stood up.</p><p>“People like us?” Nicky asked.</p><p>“You know,” Booker waved between them, “People who get in danger.”</p><p>He stared back at him with doubt. A sudden shriek came from down the stairs. Nicky turned around and ran outside, Booker with Zeus right behind him. They located the kitchen where, holding her head, stood Tony amidst a sea of little glass shards. Andrea was kneeling next to her, already picking up the pieces. </p><p>“Jesus. I apologize! I just dropped a vase,” blurted out Tony when she saw the men.</p><p>“Are you alright?” asked Nicky, already taking a step towards them. Booker grabbed his wrist and tugged him back.</p><p>“Watch the glass,” he said. </p><p>Nicky nodded and Booker let go, allowing him to sweep the shards away with his shoe and then walk to Tony. Caught off guard, Booker stared at his hand. </p><p>Tony was just surprised, no cuts on her hands thankfully, thought Nicky. Still apologizing, she went to fetch a dustpan and a broom. He knelt down next to Andrea next.</p><p>“You shouldn’t pick up glass with bare hands. Hey.”</p><p>“I’m fine.”</p><p>Despite her words, Nicky grabbed her arms and pulled her up. She let him.</p><p>“I’m the doctor and I say who’s fine. No picking up glass like this. Please.”</p><p>She eased her shoulders and agreed with a roll of her eyes.</p><p>Booker was already holding a dustpan that she came over and filled with the shards she had carefully caged in her palms. </p><p>“Show me your hands," insisted Nicky. She did, flashing him two clean palms that were without a scratch. "Thank you,” he muttered, already helping Tony sweep everything.</p><p>Booker shared a smirk with Andrea before something caught his eye when he looked at the shards she dropped off. Like cobweb cracks, thin streaks of blood glistened on the sharp edges. He looked at Andrea and faked a cough as he went and threw the dustpan contents into a trashcan. When he turned back he was met with her fierce gaze. Even in the short time he’d known Andrea, Booker could recognize that look as threatening.</p><p>Before he could react, Joe and Nile appeared in the door.</p><p>“We heard a scream. You guys okay?” asked Joe.</p><p>“Yeah, just some broken glass,” answered Nicky.</p><p>“Once again, I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to alert everyone.”</p><p>“It’s all right, Tony. It was just a vase,” smiled Copley who came through the door as well.</p><p>Like a scared dog, Tony avoided eye contact and focused on cleaning what was left on the floor.</p><p>“Copley,” mumbled Joe, more an acknowledgment than a greeting.</p><p>“Back so soon?” smiled at him Booker.</p><p>“Yes. Would you be so kind to follow me?”</p><p> </p><p>The guests settled themselves in a room that could only be described as ‘red’. A huge stone fireplace dominated the room, with tall lamps complimenting it in each corner. There were different sets of coaches and comfy looking arm chairs with tabourets and stools lining them by each side. The walls were lined with stacked bookshelves and the two big windows were framed by heavy black curtains that pooled on the floor.</p><p>Andrea sprawled on a couch that looked the fluffiest, prepping her feet up on a stool in front of her. Booker crashed into an 18th century armchair with a floral print that stood next to the couch. Joe and Nicky both went towards a lovechair that obviously couldn't hold both of them, and so both men abandoned the idea with an awkward laugh. Joe sat in an armchair next to Booker’s and Nicky sat next to Andrea with Zeus curled under his legs. Nile, looking lost like a child on her first school day, hung back and waited until everybody was seated before sitting in a wooden chair next to the fireplace.</p><p>"Lunch will be served soon. I won't keep you long, don't worry," started Copley.</p><p>"Leaving for some business in London, again?" teased Booker.</p><p>"No. Actually,” eyed him Copley, “I’m looking forward to giving you my full attention tonight. In fact, your current situation has been on my mind quite a lot. Let’s make the wait pleasant, shall we?”</p><p>White teeth grinned at the guests from behind Copley’s lips. Joe grimaced and hitched up an eyebrow. With a quick glance he read the room and wondered if Copley ever did so himself.</p><p>Still, ungrateful audience was not enough to tip Copley off balance and he continued, “Tonight, we are having a party.”</p><p>“We?” asked Andrea.</p><p>“A party?” came from Nile, her nose all scrunched up in a confused look.</p><p>Booker bared his teeth in a broad smile and then huffed defeatedly, “Finally someone on my side.”</p><p>Joe absentmindedly searched for Nicky and the two shared a shrug.</p><p>“Yes. Tony will take care of the feast and we can brush off the dusty bottles of too fancy wine that are lying in the basement. Or the liquors if you’d like. On Mr. Merrick’s expense, of course.”</p><p>“He gave you a green?” asked Booker while scratching his temple. Somehow, a party was not on the list of believable things Merrick wanted to do with them. Copley’s smile froze on his face and it took a few seconds to melt. </p><p>“Mr. Merrick told me to make sure his guests are well taken care of. I believe that includes your spirits, which have been noticeably down since you all got stuck here. Can you blame me for trying to make up for it?”</p><p>Thick silence filled the room like water would a glass, setting neatly into every crook and crease. If not for his effort, Copley deserved to be respected for his ability to not be wavered by others’ unwillingness to participate. Still, once Booker started laughing with excitement and the others more or less nodded to agree with his plan, Copley let out a sigh of relief.</p><p>“But the booze needs to be <em> good </em>,” said Booker and rolled the syllables on his tongue.</p><p>“I’ll arrange,” answered Copley with a smile.</p><p>“Vodka,” said Andrea.</p><p>“Pardon?”</p><p>“Arrange vodka,” she ordered. Copley didn’t feel like he had a choice and nodded.</p><p>“What about some good old fashioned beer?” mused out loud Joe, a smile playing on his lips. It cracked Nile, who was now grinning as well.</p><p>“Yeah. Beer sounds good,” she chimed in, nodding, furiously.</p><p>“I doubt Merrick has a wine cellar worth something,” mumbled Nicky, leaning back in his chair and hanging his elbow behind the back rest.</p><p>Joe chuckled first but Booker and Andrea joined in, dragging Nile along. Nicky suppressed the laugh at first, his smile askew. It didn’t last long. The absurdity of a group of people raiding a millionaire’s country house to get wasted warmed up to all of them.</p><p>“You think Merrick drinks vodka with a juice box in the other hand?” Booker suggested. Andrea chuckled and bit into a knuckle on her fist. Nile tried with all her might to keep her lips in line.</p><p>“No, no. But he hires a butler just to go into the cellar and dust the bottles,” countered Joe, causing Booker and Nicky to belly laugh.</p><p>“Gentlemen,” said Copley with a weak twitch of his lips, hands raised in a weak attempt to calm the situation.</p><p>“He should hire someone to drink them for him, too,” mused Andrea.</p><p>Booker answered with a raised hand: “I volunteer.”</p><p>“Gentlemen, please!” insisted Copley, sucking in his lips to stop a smile. He gave them all a moment to recollect, waiting until all the snickering came to a stop.</p><p>“We have a deal then. I’ll let Tony know that we’ll have lunch in here,” said Copley and left the room in long strides, leaving the rest of them alone, cheeks red and lips strained.</p><p>“At least you’ve got a sense of humour,” mumbled Nile, watching Booker who was now wiping a tear from his eye. He granted her another little giggle that she mirrored back.</p><p>“Let’s hope this won’t get… out of hand,” said Joe amusedly, sinking back in his chair.</p><p>“What’s the worst that could happen? We’ll burn the place down?” suggested Andrea.</p><p>“Hold on, that’s definitely <em> not </em> off the table,” shot back Booker and held up his hand to halt any haste decisions.</p><p> </p><p>Smiling Nile felt a cold nudge and looked down to see the german shepherd sitting next to her, slowly forcing his snout into her palm. When she looked up at Nicky she saw him already watching them, eyes warm and light.</p><p>“Hi,” she whispered to the dog, patting his head. “What’s your name?”</p><p>“Zeus,” answered Nicky in his place, “And he likes to be scratched behind his ears.”</p><p>Following the advice, Nile got the dog lying on his back with tongue hanging out and paws in the air within a minute.</p><p>“He’s a bit cheap but he’s got a good heart,” mumbled Nicky, lost in the sweet domesticity of the sight.</p><p>“He shares that with his owner,” said Nile and gave Nicky an honest, knowing look. Not everyone would help a maid clean or be concerned for everyone’s safety so diligently. For a second, he stilled and looked caught off guard. Then his cheeks and ears turned red and all he mustered was a half smile. He decided he’d rather amuse the situation than bore Nile with his inability to accept a compliment.</p><p>“You think I’m cheap?” he asked, deadpan.</p><p>Now Joe laughed together with Andrea, eyeing Nile who might as well have been rooted to the floor because she froze mid pat, Zeus licking her unmoving hand. </p><p>“No. No. That’s not what I meant at all!” she spit out, red faced.</p><p>“Oh really,” continued Nicky, keeping his face still, looking into her eyes with an empty but intent purpose.</p><p>“Really! I’m sorry Dr. Smith.”</p><p>That was the end of the game for Nicky, he cracked and slid into a satisfied smile, looking shyly away. “Just Nicky’s fine, Nile. Can I call you Nile?”</p><p>Confused, Nile narrowed her eyes and finally saw through him.</p><p>“Of course, Nicky,” she smirked.</p><p>Searching for Joe’s warm eyes, she found them obviously entertained on her account, and she didn’t mind because it was Joe. He was beaming like a sun, comfortably sprawled out in the chair and having a good time. Even the harsh looking woman, Andrea, was smiling and suddenly looked younger and kinder. Booker was somehow so far from the rude man from the night before and to Nile, it seemed like he must have been switched with an identical twin. The awkward mood that hung around everybody since they had gotten here was nowhere to be found.</p><p> </p><p>A vibration alerted Copley to a new message on his phone. <em> We don’t have all day, James. </em></p><p>“Yes, we do,” whispered Copley to himself with a sigh.</p><p>Impatiently, and perhaps foolishly, Copley ran through the kitchen into the garden, hastily putting on his earpiece and calling Merrick.</p><p>“Sir.”</p><p>“James. Glad to hear from you again.”</p><p>“Sir. I’m not sure you understand how <em> careful </em> we must be in this. We cannot possibly rush this.”</p><p>“Did they agree to the party?” asked Merrick without caring for Copley’s words.</p><p>“They did.”</p><p>“It will be a great opportunity to approach them and perform the tests, yes?”</p><p>“That’s the plan, sir.”</p><p>“What about the doctor and the woman? Did you get their DNA?”</p><p>“I got the doctor’s.”</p><p>“I saw him in his room, he was bandaging his wrist. Is that it? If anything, that proves the opposite of your theory.”</p><p>“Sir. He could be doing that on purpose-”</p><p>“That’s not enough, Copley.”</p><p>Upset, Copley took a moment to take a deep breath and squeezed the bridge of his nose to relieve the pressure there. Did Merrick not understand just how sensitive this operation was? If he were wrong, he would be endangering the lives of completely innocent people. But if he were not, then… He was very rarely wrong. He could see where Merrick was coming from. Still, it didn’t stop him from thinking of Merrick as an impatient asshole.</p><p>“Bring me a definitive proof. Tonight, James.”</p><p>“Tonight?” asked Copley with a hitched breath.</p><p>“I can’t just sit here and watch them mingle all day like the Big Brother. It tells me <em> nothing </em>. Take a stab at someone, bring me their arm or a head. I want proof they’re immortal.”</p><p>Absentmindedly, Copley looked towards the patch of daisies growing around the terrace. In his mind he was back with his wife, presenting her with a daisy and tucking it behind her ear as she sat in the grass in her new summer dress. No hair flowed down her shoulders, but she let the warm wind kiss her skin and accepted its touch with a smile so bright he knew his world would know only darkness once she was gone.</p><p>That was two years ago. She was gone now. Perhaps sacrifices were unavoidable for this cause. What is a single life in the grand scheme of things? Nobody would ever need to suffer again. Not like her. Not like James, who sat by her bed every night while her mind had been long gone. He would hold her hand then, whisper sweet nothings into her skin and tell her of his day, tell her of the plans they had for the future. He spoke about the backyard terrace and how he finally managed to kick himself into fixing it up, so there would be no cracks in the foundation and the boards would have no gaping gaps between them when she came back. She never answered but he talked to her all the same, and in that moment, he hated her and her inability to reassure him that everything would be fine. He was so mad at her for not standing next to him, for not patting his shoulder and kissing his nose and telling his stupid, logical mind that he should just believe that she would get better. But her body was under a sheet not even a week later and at her funeral, he couldn’t even bear to look at her. </p><p>There was no order in any of this, there was no justice in the world of sickness and death.</p><p>“Yes, sir. I will move things along tonight,” said Copley.</p><p>“Good. Have you figured out if they’ve known each other, yet? I saw a few of them chatting like they’re old friends. Maybe they know others like them.”</p><p>“I don’t believe they’ve met before now, sir. No.”</p><p>“Then they’re warming up to each other really quick. Perhaps it would be wise to not let them get too close.”</p><p>“I’m not sure how I should arrange that, sir. I don’t think it’s even a problem. They’ve known each other for a day.”</p><p>Merrick watched one of his screens with interest. It was Booker’s room feed. He ordered his man to rewind the footage to the early morning, seeing Nile helping Booker to bed. Merrick grinned at the opportunity this presented.</p><p>“You know what, James? I take that back. Maybe we could exploit this weakness.”</p><p>“How?”</p><p>“Deploy all our assets. Target will be the Frenchman. And you take the doctor, he seems tame enough. Tonight, we get the proof. I’ll send over my men to assist with the rest.”</p><p>Copley sighed, “Yes, sir.”</p><p>“Talk to you later, James.”</p><p>Cutting off the call, Merrick leaned back in his chair, hands planted on the back of his head. Satisfied smile rose on his face. If this went well - and it most likely would - he would be the richest most desired man in the world. What else was there to want? He would be feared and admired at the same time. He would hold the essence of life itself at his reach. People will ask him for permission to live longer, for permission to die. A lesser man would have come just at that thought, flashed through his mind as he was grinning at his greatness. He looked at the huge bodyguard by his side.</p><p>“Keane, get your best men prepared. Once Copley’s ready he will signal you.”</p><p>Keane nodded and got up to leave the monitoring room.</p><p>“Get me all of them, Keane.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Crisps</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Evening came fast. The red room was now illuminated by dim cones of lamp lights, the table set with an endless supply of crisps, chips and popcorn, together with bottles of coke and soda lined next to an impressive display of booze - everything from whiskey to distillates. Next to those stood a few lone, brave bottles of wine that Booker was yet to attack. He stood in front of the display and looked as soft as if he was watching a puppy play, no doubt choosing a bottle to start the night with. </p><p>Nile was laughing when she came into the room, holding a beer tap and some tubes, tailing her was Joe, hugging a keg.</p><p>“Merrick sure is something. Who has kegs of beer just lying around in the garage?” laughed Joe.</p><p>“Who doesn’t?” asked Booker and Joe shot him a mocking look.</p><p>Nile beamed with usefulness as she set up the tap, “Finally some way I can contribute to society.”</p><p>“You know your way behind a bar?” asked Joe and helped her untangle the tubes.</p><p>“I would sure like to think so. Worked as a bartender at a nightclub for a while.”</p><p>“Then you can help with this stuff as well, right?” asked Andrea, numbly pressing buttons on the music system in the corner. Nile came over and suppressed a laugh as she carefully took Andrea’s hand away.</p><p>“Yeah, pressing random buttons doesn’t work for these.”</p><p>A second later the speakers sang a cool, chilly tune that was fitting for the night. Andrea sighed and gave an annoyed ‘whatever’ as she went and poured herself a glass of vodka. Nile returned to the keg and popped the first beer of the night - which was mostly just foam - but it earned her cheers from everyone all the same.</p><p>“Let the party begin!” smiled Booker once he got his first.</p><p>“Cheers,” mumbled Joe who was already soaking his beard in beer. </p><p>Nicky came in, holding a bottle of wine and grinning from ear to ear at the sight, cringing at the beer already dropping into the expensive carpets. Copley joined him by his side.</p><p>“I see you’re already toasting,” he said, “I have a feeling like Mr. Merrick will have my head after tonight.”</p><p>Nicky smirked and gave him an honest little nod before setting the bottle on the table. “Easy, James. It won’t be that bad.”</p><p>“I hope you’re right. Wine?” asked Copley, uncorking the bottle.</p><p>“Sure.”</p><p>“Where’s Zeus?” asked Copley, unsure whether he remembered the name right.</p><p>“I left him in my room. He doesn’t like noisy settings.”</p><p>“I see,” said Copley with a smile and internally thanked Nicky for getting the dog out of the picture.</p><p>Once everybody had some sort of alcohol in hand, he decided to make an official welcoming toast. But he got only as far as saying thank you before Booker accidentally broke a glass and spilt wine on the carpet. Abandoning the idea of unnecessary speech, Copley downed his glass in one gulp and decided to let the evening unwind on its own.</p><p> </p><p>It didn’t take long for the guests to fall into the rhythm of a party. From little snippets of conversation that he could hear, Copley knew Nicky was sipping wine and laughing at a joke Nile made while explaining to him the science behind a perfectly drafted beer, and Joe and Booker were bickering about the most expensive art pieces Booker owned. Things were going well enough, thought Copley as he finished his second glass of wine.</p><p>What he didn’t account for was Andrea approaching him, leaning against a chair next to his person. She didn’t bother to make eye contact and Copley was grateful she couldn’t see the uneasiness she planted in him.</p><p>“Are you having fun, Copley?”</p><p>“I am, Miss Black. Are you?” he asked and checked that she was not staring him through like with a spear.</p><p>She chuckled, hoarse and tough and it felt like sandpaper rubbing against his skin. “What’s the meaning of all of this?” </p><p>“To have fun?”</p><p>“Where is Quynh, Copley?” she asked, still not meeting his eyes.</p><p>He sighed. “I told you. I don’t know anything. Merrick just told me to pass the name.”</p><p>Andrea took another swig and rolled the vodka on her tongue, deciding whether to swallow it or spit it in Copley’s face.</p><p>“Who is Quynh?” he asked then. Watching her cautiously, he wanted to take his words back the moment they escaped his lips. The woman in front of him watched the others but he could tell her eyes were unfocused, fazed with a memory that he opened. He got a hunch that he’d pay for daring to ask.</p><p>“I never met her,” she started, “But I wish I did. She could’ve been my way out of this mess.” She dug her fingers into the glass, stopping short before crushing it. “I spent so long looking for her. But it was for nothing. I thought I was mistaken. That she was dead.”</p><p>“Dead?”</p><p>She finally eased up, chugging the vodka and slamming the glass upside down on the table. He jumped at the impact and held his breath as she leaned close to his ear.</p><p>“If I’m here for your shits and giggles, I’ll kill you, Copley. You and Merrick. The only reason I’m here is to find Quynh. And I’ll either get her, or your head.”</p><p>With that, she stepped away and flashed him a smile, joining the others. Copley’s shaking hand reached for the bottle to refill his drink.</p><p> </p><p>Andrea joined Joe and Booker, who was already putting away another empty bottle. Joe was watching him with a sad little smile.</p><p>“I probably don’t have to tell you this, but mixing is not a great idea,” he mumbled towards him.</p><p>“Nonsense. Mixing is what makes this fun,” slurred Booker and downed another glass as he noticed Andrea standing next to Joe.</p><p>“I had a feeling that you were sober this morning, Book. I know this is a party, but you should slow down before you pass out and miss most of it,” continued Joe. Booker just laughed and suddenly, he felt stupid for caring. “Why don’t you get some soda? Or water? Should I get you some?”</p><p>“Do I look like I won’t manage that on my own?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>Booker growled in response and took a step closer, but Joe didn’t budge. The kind smile he held now slipped off his face and he put Booker back in place with a stern look.</p><p>“Get that water, Booker,” he ordered slowly, calmly.</p><p>The drunk man reached over and gently slapped Joe’s cheek, who winced only a little, then he stumbled off to do as he was ordered. With a sigh, Joe turned to Andrea and his face bloomed back into a friendly one.</p><p>“Sorry, I think he’s had enough.”</p><p>“I doubt that. He drinks like the Irish.” </p><p>Joe smiled into his glass and Andrea returned it.</p><p>“So, what’s your story?” he asked her.</p><p>“Unimportant one.”</p><p>He laughed again, “Nobody’s story is.”</p><p>She eyed him like she would an old friend. </p><p>“It’s definitely not as interesting as yours, then,” she offered.</p><p>“I highly doubt that too, miss Black.” He looked into her eyes with care.</p><p>“I’m a nobody. They plucked me off the streets to drag me here.”</p><p>“Now why would they do that?”</p><p>“To piss me off, I suppose.”</p><p>Laughing came easy to both of them today, it seemed. Joe rubbed a pattern into his glass and Andrea didn’t miss how he scanned the room once over.</p><p>“I’m starting to think it’s not an accident we’re all here tonight,” he mused out loud.</p><p>“You’re right at that, professor.”</p><p>“Joe.”</p><p>“Joe.”</p><p>“Can I call you Andy?”</p><p>“Andy?” she gave him a doubtful look. She didn’t have a conversation with someone without threatening them very often, someone offering her a nickname felt like a divine dream or a bad joke. She never got close to people. It was her rule. Why would she start now? Nicknames meant feelings. Feelings meant friendships. Friendships meant pain. Or betrayal.</p><p>“You know what, don’t answer that. I want to watch you stop me if you don’t like it, Andy.”</p><p>She stared at him as if he grew a second head and Joe smiled at her like the sun itself. He grabbed a shot glass, poured her her fill and handed it to her for the sole purpose of taking another toast with him. Andy was content with that.</p><p> </p><p>“What? Without the cream?”</p><p>“Of course. Nile, don’t tell me you make carbonara <em> with </em> cream.”</p><p>“Well, if the recipe said so?”</p><p>“Jesus Christ, I can’t believe people actually do this.”</p><p>Nile couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her and Nicky joined her once he realized his hands in the air were a bit too dramatic.</p><p>“Next you’ll tell me you add bacon, too,” he mumbled into his wine as a joke.</p><p>“I mean, duh. That’s the best part.”</p><p>He spit his wine out.</p><p>“My gran sometimes adds cheddar, too.”</p><p>“Are you trying to kill me?” he screamed.</p><p>Her shoulders shook with laughter and Nicky liked this carefree look on her. He wondered what she was doing here, how she fit into all of this. Her face was familiar from his deployments; soldiers way too young to fight and way too young to die. He’d seen so many eyes having their light taken away from them, it felt almost unreal seeing them shine with joy.</p><p>“So, not only a doctor but a cook as well? You must suffer when eating rations.”</p><p>“Actually, Italy MREs are not half bad. We even get a biscuit for the coffee.”</p><p>“Yeah, but it’s instant coffee.”</p><p>Nicky only solemnly nodded, admitting to the disgrace.</p><p>“It’s not an espresso, true. But it keeps you going,” he defended.</p><p>“I used to keep the candy and hand them out to local kids whenever I could. They were super grateful,” she said with shyness. “Even when they were just some cheap sugar store-brand kind. Those kids loved ‘em.”</p><p>Nicky felt warmth pooling inside his chest at her kindness and offered her a small, understanding smile. Sometimes it was all they could get - give candy to a kid, help a local start their car, feed a stray cat or a dog. The need to feel human amidst an unhuman war was always there and Nicky couldn’t relate more.</p><p>“Glad to see you got back in one piece, Nile,” he whispered.</p><p>She stilled at his words. “Yeah. I’m glad, too.”</p><p>“Miss Freeman?” called out Copley and Nile excused herself from Nicky. He watched her chat with their host and decided to get another glass of wine. Upon reaching the table though, he found that most of their wine was gone. <em> Did Booker drink it all? </em> thought to himself Nicky. With a smirk, he checked the bottles one by one until he found the last one empty as well. </p><p>“Are we all out? Already?” asked Copley as he came up from behind Nicky. </p><p>“Yeah. Is there more somewhere?” </p><p>“There sure is. Will you come with me? So we can bring more back.”</p><p>“Sure,” said Nicky with a smile and the two left the room.</p><p> </p><p>“Booker?” asked Nile, opening the bathroom door.</p><p>She found him surprisingly standing at the sink, water dripping off his nose and hair, and not sitting next to the toilet like she expected. He was staring daggers at the man in the mirror and for a few moments, he didn’t acknowledge her presence at all.</p><p>“Booker,” she said again, approaching him slowly.</p><p>“What do you want, Nile?” he asked and washed his trembling hands. She noticed the shake in them and moved to stand behind him.</p><p>“It looked like you’ve had enough. I thought I’d help you not choke on it coming back out.”</p><p>He gave her a snarky laugh and dried his hands, then turned to her and attempted to walk past her to the door. His legs gave out and his body hit the tiled wall, not sinking to the ground only thanks to Nile who caught him in time.</p><p>“There you go,” she said through gritted teeth, he was heavier than he looked. “You old drunk. I’ll get you back to your room.”</p><p>“Why?” he mumbled, tripping over his words.</p><p>“Because someone’s got to.”</p><p>“Seriously, Nile Why are you helping me?”</p><p>This one didn’t sound like drunk nonsense, so Nile decided to answer. It wasn’t like he would remember it.</p><p>“I believe everyone deserves a second chance.”</p><p>“I’m nothing but a sad, old man,” he said again, leaning on her for support as she led him up the stairs. “I’ve had my chances. So many of them, kid. I blew them all.”</p><p>“Maybe this one you won’t.”</p><p>She plastered him against a wall as she opened his door and then took his arm again to take him inside. He rolled onto the bed like a sack of potatoes, eyes closed and breath shallow.</p><p>“Okay, Booker. I’ll get you a glass of water and a bucket in case you start to vomit, okay?” </p><p>Her steps could be heard across the room, into the bathroom next to it for water, then finding a container he could empty his stomach into in case the need arises. Booker struggled against all odds and opened his eyes, glued together with tears, and sat up to watch her. He sniffed and she stopped in the middle of the room, looking at him now.</p><p>“Are you crying?” she asked.</p><p>“Why are you helping me? I don’t deserve it. I never have. I don’t deserve any kindness. You don’t know the things I’ve done. You don’t know half the things I’ve done, Nile. And yet you’re here. Get out. Please. Leave.”</p><p>“I’m not leaving, Booker,” she answered defiantly.</p><p>“This morning,” he mumbled and wiped his stuffy nose with a hand, “I thought I’d sober up, you know. I didn’t want you to see me that way. I thought ‘Hey. This one cares. For whatever reason, she cares about you. Don’t fuck it up.’ But I did, Nile. I fucked it up. Look at me.”</p><p>With a sigh, Nile sat next to him and handed him a tissue from his night stand so he could clean up.</p><p>“You’re obviously at your wits’ end, Booker. You need help. Not my pity.”</p><p>He smiled now, weakly. He wiped the tears and snot away and took a good look at her.</p><p>“You remind me of my wife,” he said dreamily, blushing even.</p><p>“You and a wife?” she asked with a mocking tone.</p><p>“Hey. Yeah, of course I had a wife,” he smirked and trailed off into barely a whisper, “I loved her. So much. And our kids. I had three sons.”</p><p>She noticed the past tense and felt the stab at her heart just as Booker did. She shyly reached over and rested her hand on his shoulder. </p><p>“I don’t deserve that,” he nodded towards her hand, “I only caused them pain.”</p><p>His memories took him to Elena, always smiling so bright and seeing the best in people, condensing him to hell once she grew old and he didn’t. He loved her all the same, never would had left her. But she didn’t care. He thought of Francois who swore until his last breaths to come back and haunt him. He didn’t have to swear at all, Booker kept all his demons and ghosts close. Martin’s dying words pleaded for help, but he couldn’t give it. He didn’t know how. And his son died disappointed and abandoned by his father. Jean-Pierre threw everything in his reach whenever Booker visited. So he stopped visiting. Last time he saw him was in the ground in the graveyard.</p><p>He hung his head low and stopped crying. He had no more pity for himself. “I don’t think you can help me, Nile.”</p><p>“Someone’s got to try.”</p><p>He smiled and reached over to rest his cold hand on hers. Her skin prickled at the contact but she didn’t move away.</p><p>“You’re good. You’re a good person.”</p><p>“Well, thanks. Never thought a drug trafficker would be saying that about me.”</p><p>He laughed now. She was excellent at distracting him.</p><p>“I know it’s obvious, but I would give anything to switch places with you, Nile. You still got family, friends. People you care about and will grow old with.”</p><p>She looked away, hung her head low and watched the ground, “You’d rather be a broke college student?”</p><p>“I’d rather be anyone but me.”</p><p>“Hey, don’t say that. I’m sure you’ve got,” she thought for a moment, “Qualities.”</p><p>“I’m objectively a bad person. You hate me and that’s alright.”</p><p>“That’s not true,” she said sternly, forcing him to look at her. He could tell she was being honest. “We’ve all got demons, Booker. That doesn’t mean we can’t change or be loved.”</p><p>He gave her his sad smile. “What demons could you possibly have?”</p><p>Even in his drunken state, Booker caught the heat that engulfed her cheeks and how her eyes darted around the room for means of escape. </p><p>“Sorry. I didn’t mean to pry. You don’t need to tell me,” he mumbled into his hand supporting his head. “I’ll be alright, Nile. You can go if you want.”</p><p>“No. You drank a lot. You can lie down and I’ll watch you for a moment. Just to make sure you don’t choke in your sleep.”</p><p>“Really, Nile.”</p><p>“No more arguments, just lie down.”</p><p>He sighed and laid down on top of the covers, his back to Nile. He didn’t want to sleep but he didn’t want to offend her either. Crossing his arms, he closed his eyes and hoped to mimic a good enough sleeping breathing pattern. He heard sobs when a minute passed. Opening his eyes, he sat up and saw Nile crying on the corner of the bed. He crawled over to her and shyly touched her arm.</p><p>“Nile? Nile, what’s wrong?”</p><p>“I’m wrong. I’m all wrong,” she cried, her head in hands.</p><p>“What? No, you’re not.”</p><p>“You didn’t see their faces. They think I’m a monster. Everybody. My friends - Dizzy. She saw me and thought I was a monster!”</p><p>Booker panicked and hugged Nile close, cradling her head in his arms, stroking her hair while she sobbed into his shirt. She hugged him back, clutching him like a lifeline.</p><p>“Nile, that’s not true,” he tried to calm her down, humming into her hair. When she didn’t stop crying, he leaned away and cupped her face in his hands, brushing tears from her cheeks. “Look at me, Nile. Look at me. You’re not a monster. Everything’s okay. I see you and you’re definitely not a monster. I swear to you. I recognize a monster when I see one.”</p><p>His words got through to her as she stopped sobbing, just holding his wrists and watching his eyes like he ordered. He was being honest, trying his hardest to truly calm her. He couldn’t imagine a reason for her to think she was a monster. “You’re the nicest, kindest thing that happened to me in the last century, Nile,” he said hastily and gave her a smile.</p><p>Her eyes darted from his left iris to the right and then she leaned in and kissed him. Caught off guard, he stilled but his hands on her cheeks warmed up. He could feel his heart boring out of his chest with how heavy it beated and he pulled away. She looked scared, with eyes still wet and lips swollen.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” he muttered and ran out of the room.</p><p> </p><p>Copley turned on the lights that illuminated an ominous looking staircase which led deeper under the house.</p><p>“Looks more like a bunker than a wine cellar.”</p><p>“I believe it’s been used as such during the Second World War. It protected the owners from the german air strikes.”</p><p>“The walls seem thick enough,” said Nicky, knocking on the wall as he descended down the stairs. </p><p>“Thankfully, now it can serve as a magnificent wine reserve,” smiled Copley and they entered the damp room lined with wooden wine racks filled with bottles. There even were a few glasses laid out on a shelf for tasting, but they wouldn’t be needing those now, thought Nicky as he approached a rack. He picked out a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon and turned to look at Copley, who was watching him with hands behind his back.</p><p>“I’m sorry, Nicky.”</p><p>“Sorry?”</p><p>With a swift move, Copley grabbed his shoulder and thrust forward with his other hand. The bottle dropped on the ground and shattered as Nicky’s body spasmed when the blade entered his chest. It shattered a rib and stabbed into his heart. Blood spurt out of his mouth and his eyes darted to Copley’s, fingers trembling where they held the bottle, vision shaky. The hatred behind Nicky’s sunken, blue eyes stang more than Copley had thought. He sighed and looked away as he withdrew the knife with a crunching, wet sound and dropped Nicky’s body to the floor. He collapsed on the cold concrete like a ragdoll, eyes open wide and hating, unmoving. When blood started to pool from his body, he was already dead.</p><p>Copley kneeled into the pool of blood with heavy breaths and flipped the body so Nicky lied on his back. He cut through his shirt with the knife and watched the gaping wound stare back at him.</p><p>For a moment he thought he’d been wrong. That the blood on his hands was the blood of an innocent. Is it not either way? What had he done? What would she think of him if she saw him here? He had just killed a man. Man who had done nothing wrong, man who used his life to do something good, something honorable. Fuck Merrick and fuck his own agenda - there was nothing right, nothing just to this doing. Copley felt sick to his stomach and swallowed a sour taste in his mouth.</p><p>That’s when the wound started to close. He watched the veins and arteries reattach themselves and muscle grow back over the heart that was soon closed off by the rib bone snapping back into its place under a brand new layer of muscle. Flawless skin sealed the hole closed and there were no more signs of the gaping wound. Copley gasped in shock when Nicky took a breath, twitching up to his elbows.</p><p>He gasped for air and looked at him, forgetting his own struggles as he immediately dived for the knife and launched at Copley.</p><p>A buzzing sound ripped through the air and Nicky stilled with an electricity shock spreading through his body. He clenched the knife and shook violently, gritting his teeth so hard he could snap them. He was still looking at him as two men in tactical gear came from behind and picked him up. Copley quickly administered an anesthetic into Nicky’s neck.</p><p>“I apologize for the inconvenience. But it must be done.”</p><p>He was out of it when they carried his body up the stairs.</p><p>Copley shrugged his shoulders in a futile attempt to not see Nicky’s eyes whenever he blinked. He had been right. They were immortal. All four of them. Copley felt a ray of hope shine inside of him and his previous doubts were long forgotten.</p><p> </p><p>Booker stumbled down the stairs and through the hall towards Andy, who was now lounging on the couch near the fireplace, chatting with Joe sitting next to her.</p><p>“Could I speak to you for a moment?” he asked in a hushed tone. She responded with a nod and the two of them got up to leave the room, Joe smiling at them. Booker took Andy into the hallway and outside onto the empty terrace. The late night’s moon was high up, illuminating the garden colors with a silver light. All the blooms and petals looked like they were made out of glass or metal. They were alone here, he checked.</p><p>“What’s up, Book?” She would have to be blind to not notice the way his palms were sweating, the redness in his eyes and how his breath hitched whenever he tried to take air in. It could had been the alcohol but Andy knew better. Leaning against a wall, she scanned him with a reserved look and waited for his answer. He took his time, staring at the floorboards between them rather than facing her. It was now or never. This whole night was nothing but a rollercoaster for him. He had to know, now.</p><p>“How old are you, Andrea?” he finally asked, looking towards the door to check that they were still alone.</p><p>“That’s no question to ask a lady.”</p><p>“But I am. How old are you?”</p><p>“Did you get the water like Joe told you to?”</p><p>“Don’t fuck with me. Enough of this.”</p><p>Finally, their eyes met and like a lightning meeting a tree, she was scorching him. He pulled out a knife from his jacket and noticed Andy’s eyes glancing at it. She stood up straight, her hands at her sides.</p><p>“Booker, think very carefully before you decide to do something stupid.”</p><p>“I could be wrong. I know I could be wrong. It’s impossible, isn’t it?” he mumbled, a hiccup wedging itself in between his words. “But it must be true. Andrea. And Nicky, too. Everybody here. You know what I mean. We both know it.”</p><p>“Booker, you don’t know anything. Put the knife down.”</p><p>He was crying now, “It’s not for you,” he said and shrugged his jacket off one shoulder, pulling up his shirt to his elbow, Andy watched him with wide eyes, “It would be if I was wrong, I suppose. But what do I care. What do I care what happens to me?”</p><p>“Book. Put it down.”</p><p>“No,” he laughed, “No. Just you wait. I figured it out. I figured out why we’re here, Andrea. At least you and me, for sure.”</p><p>“What did you figure out, Booker?” she stared at his wet eyes and felt her heartbeat synching with his desperate breaths. Blood pounded in her ears as she tried to reach for him. He took a step back. </p><p>“You can’t tell me, Andy,” he sobbed, “You can’t tell me you haven’t figured it out, yet.”</p><p>“What should I figure out, Booker?!”</p><p>He slid the blade across his forearm and blood beaded at the slit. Andy’s lips pressed into a tight line and she felt herself tremble, watching Booker’s forearm growing new skin and closing the cut within seconds. It couldn’t be. She twitched her gaze towards Booker with a gasp. He cried and dropped to his knees in front of her a shaking mess.</p><p>“You can’t tell me your wounds don't seal themselves like mine do. Andrea. Please. Please tell me I am right. Tell me I’m not immortal alone. I’m immortal, Andrea. I can’t die. I’ve been trying so damn hard but I just can’t do it. I shot myself, I drank myself to death more times than I can count but my liver just won’t give out. I always wake up,” he sobbed into her pants as he hugged her legs, choking on his own tears. </p><p>Andy stared ahead of her, mouth agape and unshed tears blurring her vision. She sank to the ground and embraced him. It couldn’t be. Another one? So she was not alone after all? Another person like her. Another immortal cursed with life. Maybe there were more of them. Are the others inside like them? Is that why they’re here?</p><p>She knew. She knew before he sliced his hand that they were alike. Why didn’t she do something? Had she given up already? Completely? Had she dismissed the thought just to not be hurt again?</p><p>The questions filled her head like a loud noise and she closed her eyes tight, silencing them, embracing Booker and squeezing him. They cried together. Answers didn’t matter. What mattered was that she was no longer alone. </p><p> </p><p>Upon further inspection of the room once Andy and Booker left, Joe gave himself a mental report of the situation: he was alone. </p><p>“What a party, guys,” he said to no one and finished his beer with a sigh. “Even the university Christmas party was more alive. And I think one colleague got a heart attack during that one.”</p><p>Taking a few leisure steps across the room, he skimmed his finger across the few bottles of whiskeys and rums. Thinking his abandonment was sad enough for a lone shot, he poured himself some rum and took a sip. He felt sad all of a sudden. They were mere strangers to each other, and yet, Joe felt a connection among the group. The thought of leaving all of this again pained him. These people, his colleagues and friends, this name, this story.</p><p>He had five more years, at best. The beard often helped make him look older, so he made sure to not shave once his identity aged past 35. He was used to it by now, building a life and burying it over and over again. Changing IDs and passports like dirty socks. But it never stopped to hurt, not even after all these years. It didn’t help much that he was too stubborn to learn from his mistakes and never stuck to his own rules; no deep friendships, no relationships. He always slipped and cared. And it always hurt to abandon them. And everytime he told himself to forget, he caught himself sneaking around his own conscience, checking on people from his past and grieving and grieving.</p><p>His mind slipped to Nicky. He’d felt as if he hit it off with someone before but Nicky was like an instant spark that started a wildfire. Joe felt drawn to him no matter how hard he tried to suppress it. Whenever he closed his eyes, Nicky was staring back at him. The harsh reminder to keep his distance left a sour taste in his mouth.</p><p>Rubbing a hand through his beard, he inspected the wine bottles, knowing that was what Nicky had been sipping on all evening. He thought he saw him leave with Copley before, maybe for more wine? </p><p>Out of pure friendliness, he told himself, he ventured outside the room to go look for them. The mansion was ghostly empty outside of the warm room of their party. He wandered through the hallway and towards the kitchen, hoping foolishly he’d find a sign with an arrow labeled ‘wine cellar’ that would point him to the right direction.</p><p>Instead, he heard what he recognized as a shot that passed through a silencer. His body falling into a well known routine, Joe hugged the wall and set his glass on the floor, listening for the shuffling coming out of the kitchen behind a corner. The noise told him there were two people walking about, carrying something heavy, and a third one dragging something. His throat tightened as he leveled his breaths, planning out each of the steps he took towards the wall opposite of him that was decorated with two swords. As silently as he could, Joe slid one of the sabers out of its hooks and crept back towards the kitchen.</p><p>When he peeked out he saw a glimpse of a man leaving the kitchen through the back door. Other than that the room was empty, silent and serene except for the splatter of blood on one of the cabinets. Joe regarded the blood with a frown, his grip on the weapon tightened until his knuckles turned white. Whose blood was this? Copley’s? Nicky’s?</p><p>He bit his lip and looked away jaggedly. No, that couldn’t be, he told himself. He wouldn’t believe it until he’d see, even if it was the last thing he’d ever want to imagine. Sickness took hold of him as he walked through the kitchen, catching a glimpse of a cone of light. It came from a door behind a corner that was cracked open and labeled ‘wine cellar’. He slipped inside.</p><p>Each step he took brought him closer to musty air and humidity and the heavy smell of blood. Joe hugged the wall and descended from the last step, peeking into a big room lined with wine racks and crudely decorated by a massive pool of blood and glass in the middle. Next to the pool laid a bloody blade and stood a man, concerned with his clothes that had been soaked in red. Joe’s widened eyes stung with the stench of death and tears as he watched Copley worry himself over Nicky’s blood ruining his suit pants.</p><p>His fist was white-knuckled and he clenched his jaw so hard he could snap the bone in half. He emerged from his shadows and stood in front of him, the sabre’s blade just an inch away from Copley’s face. The man turned white upon seeing him, putting on a shaky smile.</p><p>“Joe. Hello,” said Copley and sounded terrified, sweat beading on his forehead.</p><p>“Is this Nicky’s blood?” he pushed through his teeth, staring him down in cold blood.</p><p>“Nicky? No. Heavens, no. We were picking out the wine and one of the bottles fell and-”</p><p>“I won’t ask again, Copley, so listen closely.” He meant it, twisting the blade to his neck to help him take it seriously. “Is this Nicky’s blood?” His voice was shaking just like his eyelids, lashes twitching up and down in disbelief. With every blink, more and more tears shielded Joe’s vision and he hated it. </p><p>Copley rose his hands in defeat and now stared at Joe like a madman. He was crying like a child, derailed. For a moment, Copley thought about running for it and glanced at the stairs.</p><p>“Don’t even think about it!” shouted Joe, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. He was hyperventilating. With a quick stride, he pressed himself to Copley and grabbed the collar of his shirt, keeping the sabre aimed at his guts with a clear threat to let them free. “Answer me, goddammit. Now! Where’s Nicky?!”</p><p>“He’s not here! Not here!”</p><p>“Is he alive?”</p><p>“Yes, he’s alive.”</p><p>“Where?”</p><p>“They took him away! I know where. I’ll tell you.”</p><p>The relief that washed over Joe’s tense face like a tsunami wave turned into twice the size of hatred. His pupils shrunk into the size of a pin when he stared into Copley’s lying mug. His brows knit together in the countless questions.</p><p>“Why?” cried Joe, “Who are you?”</p><p>“I work for Merrick.”</p><p>“Why would Merrick do this?” He pressed the sword forward as he spoke and the blade cut through the shirt. Copley swallowed a breath and turned rigid, sweating bullets at the feel of the cold steel on his skin.</p><p>“Look around you,” Copley muttered, hopelessly trying to control his breath, “Nobody would survive losing so much blood.”</p><p>Joe’s eyes darted towards the reddened concrete.</p><p>“But you said he’s alive,” he whispered. The pieces started to fit together and he looked back at Copley in terrified awe.</p><p>“He is. He woke up.” Copley spoke with admiration, a crazed smile playing upon his lips, “I saw it with my own eyes. I saw his heart knit itself back together and start <em> beating </em>. There wasn’t even a scar on his skin.”</p><p>“Nicky,” whispered Joe like it was a sacred word.</p><p>“Absolutely extraordinary.”</p><p>“Did you kill him? Just to prove your point?” he asked then, disgusted.</p><p>Behind Joe, Copley saw Merrick’s men coming down the stairs. He looked Joe in the eye.</p><p>“I had no choice, Joe. I needed proof.”</p><p>Gritting his teeth, Joe grabbed his chin and pulled him up, “I think I might need some, too.”</p><p>That’s when two taser needles stabbed into Joe’s back and he went to the ground with a grunt, spasming. Copley backed off him and ordered the men to fetch him another dosage to knock Joe out. One man ran up the stairs while the other one went to grab him, turning off the taser. Joe hissed as he crawled on the floor, feeling his muscles ripple under his skin.</p><p>“Be careful, Keane,” warned Copley.</p><p>The man just scoffed, kneeling down on Joe’s back. Reaching to pull back his arms, Keane opened his guard and received an elbow to the face that toppled him. Joe flipped on his back with a push and grabbed the sabre that sliced through Keane’s face like through butter. With a scream, Keane got kicked off and as his back hit the racks, his hand already twitched for his Glock. Joe was at him in a second, blade clashing against the pistol’s barrel. Keane braced against the steel shaft and shoved Joe’s sabre off. He noticed the wires still sticking from his back and dove for the taser on the ground. All Joe managed was a growl before Keane turned on the voltage and his body stopped listening to him once again.</p><p>Grunting in pain, Joe writhed on the ground like an insect and Keane spit on him as he turned the voltage to max.</p><p>He smiled with blood stained teeth and said: “I’ll burn you to a crisp.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This has to be my favourite chapter of the bunch. What about you? Were you ready? </p><p>I'm loving all of your reactions and hope that you're hooked on what's coming, because there's a lot of it!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. The death of me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They watched together as the cut on Andy’s palm sealed into a flawless patch of skin. Booker smiled and kissed her palm, hugging her tight. It felt like the most natural thing to ease into sleep at that moment. Held in an embrace by an equal, a partner, someone <em> constant</em>, he closed his eyes and felt most at peace settling his nose into the crook of Andy’s neck. His tears had turned into happy ones, deepening the creases around his eyes as they shared a silent, ridiculous chuckle. </p><p>With a gentle tug, Andy took his face into her hands and held him in front of her. Her eyes shone brighter than the night’s skies as she inspected every detail on Booker’s face with trembling lips. She stroked his hair away from his face and Booker, in return, rubbed circles into the back of her hands.</p><p>“I can’t believe it,” she whispered. “How old are you?”</p><p>“Born in 1770.”</p><p>She couldn’t help the scoff she gave him, followed by ruffling his hair. “You’re a baby.”</p><p>He grinned at her with joy he never thought he’d experience again. “You?”</p><p>“I lost count so long ago,” she smiled sadly. </p><p>Booker offered her his touch as he caressed her cheek, disturbing the drying streaks of tears.</p><p>“What about the others?” she asked shyly, afraid to hope for more. </p><p>“I think they’re like us,” he whispered with careful joy. His hands were not shaking only because he kept them on Andy. His heart thundered within his chest but he felt great. Never had he felt this good in two hundred years. </p><p>“How do you know? All of them?” Her voice shook like the most brittle thing. </p><p>“At least Nicky is, I think. Maybe all of them.”</p><p>She started sobbing again and buried her head into his shoulder. He held her tight and didn’t need to know her longer to know Andy wasn’t a person to cry like this. He treasured her being vulnerable.</p><p>“We must go get them. That’s why we’re here, Booker,” she locked eyes with him and stopped crying at once, “If you and me are immortal it’s not an accident that we’re here. Merrick wants us for immortality.”</p><p> </p><p>Like on command, both of them stood up and fast walked back to the party room. It was deserted. Booker started to pace around the room, knife in hand.</p><p>“I left Nile in my room,” he reported.</p><p>“And Joe was here when we went out. I saw Nicky with Copley before,” she said and their eyes instantly met. </p><p>“Fuck,” muttered Booker.</p><p>“You go get Nile. I’ll go look for Joe and Nicky.”</p><p>He gave her a quick acknowledgement nod and ran outside.</p><p>Taking the steps by three, Booker sprinted into the first floor, throwing his door open with a mighty swing. The bed was empty, sheets crunched up. He stormed into the bathroom to find it empty as well. Muttering ‘no’ over and over he searched the room once more to no avail. </p><p>Tugging his bag out from under the bed, he replaced the knife in his hand with his gun, an HK45, that he tucked into his pants. He ran outside to check Nile’s room and Joe’s and found them both empty as well. He would have walked past Nicky’s door when he heard a bark. His eyes lit up and he backtracked.</p><p>“Zeus?” he whispered to the door and heard distinctive sounds of teeth scraping against wood.</p><p>Nudging his gun between the doorway and the handle, Booker broke off the lock with a mighty tug and the door slid open. The dog stormed out, hairs standing up on his back. He barked at Booker and ran down the stairs. Calling after him proved futile and Booker set out to follow him when he had a fleeting thought as he looked towards Andy’s room.</p><p> </p><p>It was silent in the house, too silent, and so Andy heard the rain that had started outside. Minding her steps, she stalked her way through the rooms, picking a sword off the wall. She checked to hear any voices before opening the kitchen door a crack. It was empty, like seemingly the whole house. The splatter of blood didn’t escape her attention but she pressed on, finding the cellar door wide open, light coming out of it.</p><p>When she stood there on the bloodied concrete floor, she felt herself boil with anger. It had been so long since she felt <em> anything </em> aside from the scolding cold every morning and disappointment. She was positive it was anger this time. Anger on Copley, anger on Merrick, anger on the whole world. She had just found someone worth <em> living </em> for. Nobody was going to take that away.</p><p>Her eyes shot towards the stairs as she heard quick steps getting closer. She eased up once she realized who it was. Zeus’ paws landed on the final step and he granted her a haunting, knowing look, before walking over to the puddle of blood. Andy stepped aside as the dog whined and then, spent, lied on the floor. </p><p>“He’s coming back,” said Andy and his ears perked up. “He always comes back.” And he stood back up, walking up to her.</p><p>They left the cellar and Booker found them in the doorway to the maid’s room, which laid right next to the kitchen.</p><p>“Jesus,” muttered Booker as Andy laid a sheet over the body of Tony.</p><p>She had been shot through the head. With haunting, wide eyes, Andy scanned the room. On the nightstand stood a box filled with bullets. Upon seeing the box, Booker checked his magazine, finding it empty. Shaking off the surprise, he punched the bullets in and reloaded.</p><p>“She took them out when you weren’t in your room,” mused Andy and walked back to the kitchen. Booker followed. “Merrick’s cleaning after him. Nicky is gone. No sign of Joe either. There’s a lot of blood in the cellar.”</p><p>“Nile, too,” he said and his voice almost cracked, “Joe’s room is empty, too. Why would Copley leave <em> us </em> here?”</p><p>“He wouldn’t,” she said as she hugged the wall next to the window. Booker followed suit on the other side. Lights from two incoming vans shone through the glass as if they searched the darkness specifically for them. They heard the tires come to a stop as the car parked and numerous pairs of heavy boots jumped out and ran across the wet gravel to the door. Booker and Andy shared a look.</p><p>“I found this in your room,” he said, shrugging off the bag on his shoulder and sliding it to her across the floor.</p><p>Andy pulled out the head of a double bladed axe and granted Booker a grin worth a million words. She discarded the sword in her hands. With a quick snap, she assembled the handle and wielded her own weapon. The shiny blade reflected the van headlights into her face as she held the axe up. She looked nothing short of a goddess. A warrior Booker imagined when he'd read about Amazons. She was a divine dream that he still couldn’t believe materialized right in front of him. Never before had an immortal man been this sure to be on a winning side.</p><p> </p><p>The front door shuttered with a thunderous break as the men got in. Andy and Booker noticed three men running under the windows to flank them. Booker moved to the back door with his gun at the ready while Andy snatched a dish cloth and slipped out of the kitchen into the breakfast room. The next room was the hunter’s room, through which she could get into the red room where they'd held the party. The armored men cleared the room one by one, reporting to each other as they proceeded through the house. They were too fast and Andy hid in the hunter’s room behind a wall of curtains as they walked past her. She could hear the thumps of footsteps in the hall, running up the stairs and kicking down doors.</p><p> </p><p>A less experienced soldier would have snapped, pressed his trigger too soon, made a hasty move that gave away his position, but not Booker. He held his guard, stilling his breath so well he could hear the mercenaries whispering to each other on the other side of the door.</p><p>With a quick kick, the door flew open and the first man peeked in with his rifle barrel. Booker launched forward and grabbed the barrel, shoving the man forward to his HK45 and pressed the trigger. The shot rang out and Booker threw the body across the floor as he dropped the pistol in favor of the bigger gun, an MP7. The mercenaries outside started unloading blindly into the door and Booker ducked behind the counter isle. </p><p>“Get in! Get in!”</p><p> </p><p>“Check the curtains.”</p><p>One of the men started palming at the long drapes, clearing them one by one until he reached Andy who hacked his arm clean off with a swipe. Pushing his body in front of her, Andy took out his Glock. Countless bullets riddled the corpse and one bounced off the axe’s steel as Andy ducked under and shot down three men, aiming for their kneecaps. She used the momentous opportunity and sprang to her feet to slice through the other two. The men on the ground writhed in pain but one reached for his MP7 all the same. Andy shot him down and his pressed finger activated a burst that riddled the two men lying next to him.</p><p>Another burst of bullets came from the breakfast room as three more mercenaries ran inside. Three bullets riddled Andy’s back and she hissed as she dived behind a table. Looting the nearby body, she reloaded her Glock and waited. A frag grenade clanked across the ground and came to a stop next to her. </p><p>She only had time to sizzle “Fuck me.”</p><p> </p><p>Two men armed to the teeth entered the kitchen, looking for Booker. He watched his shirt turn the color of wine and bit his lip to not make a sound. Waiting patiently for their steps to reach him, Booker noticed Zeus cowering in the kitchen doorway, staring at the men with his tail tucked between his legs. He held his breath in a gasp, watching the poor animal with fear he hoped to never feel again. Two safeties came off with a click, two barrels aimed at the animal.</p><p>“Hey, it’s the dog.”</p><p>Zeus barked and Booker dived across the floor, slamming down the first man’s gun with his own, then shooting the second man in the chest. Punching him with the gun-stock, Booker then slammed the first man to the floor and silenced him for good. He made care to check that Zeus was in one piece, even when cowering in the corner. Whispering ‘stay’, Booker kicked open the door to the breakfast room upon hearing shots, sights up and ready to shoot. He saw flashes of gunshots coming from the next room and he reached the door just as a grenade blast blinded him and shook the walls. </p><p>When he shook it off, he peeked inside to find the dust not yet fully settled, three men circling the dark shadow on the ground. They started unloading into Andy’s body, torn apart next to the wall where it’d been launched. Booker grit his teeth, no matter how sure he was she’d be fine. He wanted to make them pay.</p><p>“Hey!”</p><p>The mercenaries halted and turned around. He smiled at them and threw his arms about.</p><p>He spoke in French: “<em>Eat shit.”</em></p><p>Flinging his gun back into place, he pressed the trigger and shot the first one. The rest fired and Booker got shot in the shoulder and hip as he ran up to them. He broke the first one’s jaw with his fist, then shot a bullet clean through his heart, screaming as he turned around and grabbed the second one’s gun just as the man unloaded a burst into his stomach. When he ran out of bullets, he kept pressing the trigger, clicks filling the air as he stared at Booker with terrified eyes. He was clutching the gun while trembling with pain, blood pooled at his feet but he knew he’d stand on. His stomach was already pushing out the bullets that didn’t pass through and when the deformed caps started to clank on the floor, the mercenary cried out. He let go of the gun and backed into a wall, staring at Booker like he was a monster. He only grinned. He was. Then the man’s head twitched to a side as a bullet passed through. Booker looked towards Andy who slowly lowered her smoking gun. </p><p>She was lying on the floor, holes and tears in her body slowly knitting together. Booker ran to her side and helped her sit up with care, trying to ignore the whimpers and grunts she was pushing through her teeth.</p><p>“Is that all of them?” Booker asked.</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“You think they have the others in the van?”</p><p>“I think they took them away.”</p><p>“I sure hope someone’s left alive so they can tell us where.”</p><p>Andy stood up without much struggle but walked warily into the red room, her axe strapped to her back. Booker followed her, looking at the party where he’d gotten stupid drunk just a few hours ago. He watched and smirked as Andy searched for the vodka bottle and chugged some, clear liquid trickling through her torn neck. She offered him and he declined, hugging the wall as he heard the rest of the men running down the stairs.</p><p>“15 seconds.”</p><p>“Get me 40,” mumbled Andy as she pulled out the dish cloth.</p><p>Turning the bottle upside down, she soaked the cloth and then stuffed it into the neck of the bottle. Sealing it with her thumb, she shook the bottle and crouched behind the table, clutching her still bloody side. She waited, breathing slowly, focusing on her body gathering itself. Most of her shirt was gone but when she looked down, she was glad to not see through her skin anymore.</p><p>Booker stood by the door and waited for the steps to reach the doorway, then for the barrels to peek through the door. He shoved the closest gun down and sprayed the men coming inside, counting six men in total. Andy in the meantime, reached for another bottle and poured the alcohol all over the curtains, smashing it against a wall. Then she took another and did the same. Peeking out from behind the table, she saw Booker twitching sideways from a bullet through his shoulder, upon which he turned around and dived behind a loveseat. They caught each other’s eyes and Andy lit a lighter. He didn’t look nearly half as excited as she did when she lit the molotov. The mercenaries proceeded and when one towered above Booker, Andy threw the fire bottle at his feet. </p><p>Three of the men burst into flames, screaming. The fire spread into the curtains, across the carpets and furniture. The last mercenary who didn’t stand in the fire ran from the room. He got stopped by a bullet to the thigh and toppled to the ground. When he turned around, he saw Andy and Booker, patting their scorched sleeves and approaching him. Not a single burn on their skin.</p><p>“Where is Merrick?” asked Andy, pointing a gun at his head. “Where did they take the others?”</p><p>“They’re in an old bunker on the coast,” stuttered the man, wide eyed. “Merrick has a lab there.”</p><p>“Where exactly?”</p><p>“There’s GPS in the car. It’ll lead you there.”</p><p>With a simple nod, Andy walked past the man and Booker followed her. The mercenary stared at them like they were ghosts.</p><p>Fetching Zeus from hiding in the kitchen, they left the house that started to fill with smoke. Both of the vans outside were now empty and Andy chose one on a whim and climbed inside. Booker opened the passenger’s door when he heard a bark and saw Zeus jumping into the back of the van.</p><p>“It’ll be dangerous,” said dryly Andy.</p><p>“You try telling him that.” He closed the back door and got into the passenger seat. After a few pleading looks from Andy, Booker looked into the nav system and found the desired location.</p><p>They drove down the rainy driveway with the mansion behind them engulfed in flames.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>Toe-curling screams bounced off cold, steel reinforced walls from either side of the bunker. The crappy ventilation system carried every grunt and whimper right into his office. Merrick now doubted his choice of location. Maybe it was foolish to trade the comfort of well isolated, sound-proof laboratories for the privacy of the bunker. But while the screams annoy him to no end, they have no chance of reaching the surface. No chance of a competitor snatching his immortal mice away, or some noisy authority that would, at first, blame him for crimes against humanity, and then swiftly take the immortals for themselves. No thank you, thought Merrick. With a heavy sigh, he put his AirPods in and maxed out the volume of his music, hoping to block out the noise.</p><p>“Sir,” said Keane as he walked inside, pulling one of the AirPods out of Merrick’s ears when he didn’t react.</p><p>“Hey,” shouted Merrick, annoyed until he noticed the large slash on his bodyguard’s face, “Jesus Christ. What happened to you?”</p><p>“The professor sure has a mean swing with a sword.”</p><p>Merrick laughed maniacally, “A sword? You’re kidding? That’s so cool. You got him, right?”</p><p>Keane pulled visible mental gymnastics to not look upset at his reaction. Copley, who entered the room shortly after Keane, hogged the limelight with his report.</p><p>“Sir, we have both the doctor and the professor. But we’re missing the rest.”</p><p>Merrick sucked in a breath and waved his arms about, “What? But- Nevermind, the beta team should be there any minute now.”</p><p>“They’re dead, sir.”</p><p>Finally, thought Keane, as he watched Merrick stiffen and his eyes turn from manic to surprised.</p><p>“Dead?”</p><p>“Only one man survived. He reported three minutes ago that they’re on their way here. They took one of the vans,” admitted Copley with a shaky voice.</p><p>“Here?” repeated Merrick again. His lips started to twitch at the corners and like a nervous schoolboy presenting in front of a class, Merrick barked out a little laugh that seeped with fear and excitement. “This could be good, right, James? Keane, how many more men do we have? They’ll come right to us. All we gotta do is take them.”</p><p>“I got thirty armed men, plus the guards outside, that’s it.”</p><p>Merrick cried out “That’s it?”</p><p>“That’s it, sir.”</p><p>Breathing heavily, Merrick stalked a circle into the floor while fidgeting with the laces of his hoodie. He started chewing on one’s end when simple walking didn’t help.</p><p>“Sir, there are still options. We can make a run for it,” suggested Copley carefully. It hurt his own pride to say such, but watching the body cams of his team shutting off, while he still heard their screams, gave Copley sudden appreciation for his own, lowly, mortal life.</p><p>“Make a run for it?” repeated Merrick mockingly. He spit out the lace and approached Copley with the threat of a raised index finger. “I didn’t hire you to chicken out now, that we have fucking <em> immortality </em>itself at our grasp, James. Nobody’s running anywhere.”</p><p>“Sir. They killed an entire squad by themselves. The odds are not in our favour,” spoke Copley calmly. “We can take the two we have and relocate. Or at least let us take you back to London. If we hurry up, we can still make it.”</p><p>Merrick didn’t waste words on him anymore, dismissing him with the wave of his hand. “Call for backup, Keane.”</p><p>“They won’t get here in time.”</p><p>“What do you mean!” screamed Merrick, “How much time do we have then?!”</p><p>“Forty minutes, sir. At best.”</p><p>Wide eyed and finally silent, Merrick switched between staring daggers at Copley and Keane. Once he found his breath again, his face scrunched up with foolish determination.</p><p>“Put the patients into a shared room.”</p><p>“Sir?”</p><p>“And set up a trap. Jump from the fucking ceiling to gain an advantage if you have to. Do something!” rang out his angry voice as Merrick stormed down the hallway.</p><p>
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</p><p>With a clank, a pair of bloodied tweezers landed in a steel blow, replaced with clamps that held Nicky’s chest cavity open. The hole about the size of a golf ball trembled with pressure it put on the instruments, trying to close itself and grow back together. Nicky was staring into the bright light hanging above his head, crying from pain as the people around him ignored him. One technician was recording his healing while the other scraped his insides for more samples. His body was strapped in a reclined chair that took up half the cramped, dark room. Around him was nothing but cold, grey walls that captured every sickly sound of his body being stabbed and cut into and played them back to him amplified. They stood around him like loyal guards, witnessing his misery in silence.</p><p>While Nicky’s screams had stopped after an hour, the torture hadn’t.</p><p>Now he only crushed his teeth against each other, keeping as much of the pain as he could <em> in </em> as he was being taken apart. The tears he had shed dried and the wound in his heart was long gone, but he felt it being in shambles all the same.</p><p>Why did Copley betray him? He must have known that Nicky would wake up. The look that he saw on him once he took a new breath - look of wonder and awe and happiness - it disgusted him. Nicky felt stupid for trusting Copley enough to come to the estate, and outright idiotic for not realizing sooner his acts of friendliness were fake and intended.</p><p>With a ragged gasp, Nicky felt his lung rupture and his air being sucked out under the stab of a needle. He gripped his restraints until they bled into his palms.</p><p><em> Where were the others? Where was Joe and Nile and Andrea and Booker? Where was Joe? </em> His mind kept racing back to those warm, happy, brown eyes that offered him comfort even in memory. <em> What happened to them? Did Copley kill them all? Was he searching for an immortal? </em></p><p>Another surge of tears made its way into his eyes as he blamed himself for their fate, whatever Copley did to them. <em> They weren’t immortal, they couldn’t be. They were just people. Mortal beings. Was Copley so sick he killed innocents? Because of me? </em></p><p>His head fell on the headrest with a weak thump while his hands didn’t ease up, bleeding over the chains he was holding. What had he done? Why did he come here, he asked himself.</p><p>For a brief moment, he felt deserving of all the pain. It seemed to be a fitting punishment for his recklessness, for leading regular people that he had sworn to protect to find suffering in that bloody mansion. And what for? Another witch hunt or a feeble attempt at finding cure for death? </p><p>“It won’t work,” he spoke up and his voice was calm and cold like the scalpels they used on him. The technicians both looked up and he met their eyes with his own. “You won’t find what you’re looking for, no matter how many times you kill me.”</p><p>Both of them dodged Nicky’s gaze as if it burned them.</p><p>“Don’t speak with the subject,” said a woman’s voice over the intercom. “Bring me the samples, please.” </p><p>The technicians picked up their bloody tools and left the dirty lab in a hurry, leaving Nicky alone once the heavy doors slammed shut. He took a deep breath, easing up his shoulders as his body finally healed completely.</p><p>“You’re breaking your oath,” said Nicky, unsure if whoever watched him was even listening.</p><p>“As have you, many times before, Dr. Smith.”</p><p>“Yet my conscience is clear. Is yours?”</p><p>After a fat moment of silence, the intercom’s buzz shut off.</p><p> </p><p>Joe huffed hot air through his nostrils like a bull, trying to ease his breath to no avail as he watched someone who looked like a goddamn intern taking away his index finger and dropping it into a shiny steel bowl. His golden ring slid off the cut bone and clanked as it hit the bowl. He looked away as he breathed through his muscles and nerves stretching themselves over a newly forming bone link. It grew painfully slow. It would take forever to grow back and Joe knew the pain didn’t get any better until the finger was once again complete. </p><p>“Fascinating,” said a woman’s voice through the intercom. “Once that heals, we might take an entire arm.”</p><p>He gave the speaker a heavy-lidded look. “Where’s Nicky?” he asked, as calmly as he could manage.</p><p>Unsurprisingly, the voice ignored him completely, like it had done this whole time, speaking only to taunt him or give orders to the technicians around him where to stab him next. One of the men was now wiping away the blood Joe’s body was covered in and Joe didn’t spare a single look his way. He wanted to scream and wanted to be angry, but all his mind could think of was Nicky. He was like him; immortal, undying.</p><p>Somehow, it all made sense for Joe. The sense of familiarity Nicky was surrounded with, the haunting look of his beautiful eyes, the shy smile that Joe couldn’t get enough of; it all made sense now and it watered the blooming smile crawling over his face. They were linked together by this curse, that all of a sudden felt like a gift when it was shared with him, thought Joe poetically. Knowing that Nicky was behind one of those cold, thick walls, filled him with determination. He would withstand anything and seize the first opportunity that arose to get Nicky out of here.</p><p><em>What about the rest, though?</em> Sheepishly, Joe cringed at his own selfishness. <em>What happened with Nile and Andy and Booker? Did Copley kill them too?</em> <em>Are they like me, as well?</em> </p><p>Not daring to hope, Joe dismissed his thought until his mind was a clear, empty canvas. Setting up his list of priorities, he made a promise to himself he would paint it red once he got out of his restraints.</p><p>It seemed the universe granted him another great wish as guards opened the door and rushed the technicians outside. To Joe’s distaste, they earned themselves only an ancient curse when they stabbed Joe with another stun needle, waving the controller before his eyes as a threat - or a challenge. This wouldn’t do for an escape. He bared his teeth in a growl and complied when they freed him off his restraints only to snap another pair of cuffs on his hands and legs, leading him out of the room.</p><p>The hallway’s shadows went hand in hand with the lamplights hastily wired along the ceiling and Joe wondered where there was an exit to this place. One of the guards grabbed Joe’s neck and forced his head down as they turned a corner. Complementing whether breaking his nose was worth it to suffer another heart attack, Joe kept his gaze down and noticed the clipboard the guard was carrying held its papers with a row of paperclips. He faked a stumble to lean into him and his reward was a jolt of voltage that surged through him like lightning.</p><p>“Keep. Walking,” ordered the guard.</p><p>Joe obeyed and the rough hand on the back of his neck shoved him into a room at the end of the hallway.</p><p>“Joe!” </p><p>He almost snapped his neck to face the familiar voice. In his jeans and a bloody shirt, there stood Nicky, flushed with raw happiness that materialized in his eyes in tears. Joe tripped when he tugged on his chains to reach for him. A guard stayed at each of their backs, holding their restraints tight.</p><p>“Oh my God, I thought you were dead,” said Nicky way too quickly, his eyes scanning Joe for any injuries, his brows furrowing at the blood stains, “Are you alright? Did they hurt you? Jesus Christ, your hand-”</p><p>Joe stood still, stars alight in his eyes as he softened up, hearing Nicky stumbling over his words. The kindness of this man knew no bounds, Joe assessed. He flashed him a reassuring smile and only then did Nicky’s eyes stop darting all over his form.</p><p>“I’m alright. I’m okay now. Nicky, you’re-”</p><p>“What a reunion. Glorious,” uttered Merrick as he applauded when he walked into the room. Keane stood behind his back like a dog, watching his steps and making sure he wouldn’t get too close to either of them. </p><p>Joe and Nicky shared the same look of annoyance before turning their attention to the man.</p><p>“I think I should introduce myself - I’m Steven Merrick. Finally, we meet. What a joyous occasion. Silence the drums and clean up the confetti.” He took a step forward and Keane stopped him with a hand on his shoulder, which Merrick shook off. His face twitched into a scowl as he scanned his prisoners and he trembled with fury when he pointed at Nicky and then Joe. “You and the rest of your pack of immortals are playing with me, aren’t you?”</p><p>Nicky hid the confusion that stirred up in him and decided to bore a hole into Merrick’s head with his gaze instead. The twitchy man was visibly uneasy. </p><p>“You’re nothing but a bunch of liars. You’ve known each other, all this time. How many more of you are there?”</p><p>Joe’s eyebrow twitched up in a question and when he faced Nicky, he found him just as determined to give Merrick the silent treatment. That it was because neither of them knew the answer to his question, they kept to themselves.</p><p>“Alright then!” said Merrick and held out a hand towards Keane, who placed a knife in his palm. Without a second thought, Merrick stabbed Joe in the neck, over and over until the blade glistened with his blood. When Nicky screamed and almost toppled the guard who was holding him back, Merrick turned his attention towards him and stabbed his stomach so many times it was a wonder his guts didn’t spill out.</p><p>Breathing hard and heavy, Merrick held out the knife and Keane took it back. Slicking back his hair with his bloody, shaking hands, he attempted to calm himself, watching his victims scramble to their feet. Nicky grunted in pain and tugged on his chains vigorously to reach and help Joe. Then he stopped and froze over, seeing Joe’s skin crawling over the cuts. His finger was whole once more as well.</p><p>When Merrick finally spoke, it was in a quiet, controlled voice. “You two won’t see the light of day until I get what I want from you. I don’t care how many times I’ll have to kill you, or how many times you’ll beg for me to stop. You’ll die in this bunker over, and over again until I find out your secret.” Looking down at them from where he towered above their bodies that curled up in pain, Merrick’s eyes were clouded with greed. “And when I do, I won’t let you go. I’ll let a ton of concrete pour down and seal this place shut. And you’ll be stuck here, suffocating until the end of time.” He was smiling when he finished his sentence. “You could help me, of course,” he offered generously, “You could help me stop this. You could be on my side. Together, we can make the world a better place.”</p><p>Joe laughed, spitting blood on Merrick’s shoes with it.</p><p>“What’s so funny?!” he screamed in fury.</p><p>There was no fear in Joe’s eyes when he faced Merrick. His voice didn’t carry any anger or contempt, only pity. “You could make the world a better place only if you left it, bastard.”</p><p>It earned Joe a slap across his face, but he couldn’t care less. It took all of Nicky’s will to just stand there and watch Joe getting hurt, but a sly, proud smile plastered on his lips all the same.</p><p>Deep down, both of them knew they were putting on an act of defiance, an act of bravery neither of them felt confident enough to be true. They were terrified, the blood in their veins slowed and thickened like a paste at the thought of confinement; eternity in pain. It was anyone’s guess as to why they never died, but it was everyone’s nightmare to be endlessly tortured with no option of relief in death. It would never stop, the ache in their bodies would spread and set them aflame over and over and over, until they couldn’t breathe between the grunts and whines, and maybe, just maybe, they would be so overwhelmed by pain that they would be knocked out for most of it. Both of them doubted that would be the case for Merrick; no, he would hold them lucid and watch their fingers curl into bloody fists as he carved them open like animals. It was their little victory to not let him get the satisfaction to see their fear just yet.</p><p>Merrick stormed out of the room and the guards attached their chains to either side of the room and followed suit. Finally, they were left alone.</p><p> </p><p>Having a moment to sort his thoughts, Nicky slowly faced Joe once he realized what had happened. He choked up and attempted a smile as he watched the new, pink skin on Joe’s neck.</p><p>“Joe,” he mumbled, touching his own neck, “Your neck. Your finger.”</p><p>The air between them was heavy, soaked with anticipation of the words neither of them dared to say out loud. The smile on Joe’s face stretched wider and Nicky could see dimples in his beard. They shared a laugh so light, Nicky’s chest felt like a cage filled with butterflies and Joe didn’t hold back the tears that welled up in his eyes.</p><p>“Nicky,” he whispered with such care it seemed he was afraid his name would escape his tongue if he was too hasty.</p><p>They sat on the ground in silence, studying the other one’s face and mentally cursing the chains that kept them apart.</p><p>“What?” asked Nicky finally, a shy smile playing with his lips. Joe had been staring at him with heart eyes the whole time and had the audacity to chuckle upon being called out.</p><p>“When I was around you, even in the span of a single day, I knew you were different.”</p><p>“How?”</p><p>“You felt so familiar,” mumbled Joe,l lost in the shape of his nose, following the line of his jaw with hungry, dark eyes. When he finally met Nicky’s, the light of them was as strong as a star and he basked in it with joy. “Like I’ve met you before.”</p><p>“But we haven’t,” said Nicky and ended his sentence like a question. His whole face was flushed. </p><p>“Maybe not in this life,” offered Joe and it made Nicky laugh. “What’s your real name?”</p><p>Nicky looked scared and confident at the same time as he took a leap of faith he never would have imagined before today.</p><p>“Nicolo,” he gasped out, in disbelief at the forgotten sound of his own name.</p><p>“Yusuf al-Kaysani.” Joe’s own chest was heaving with excitement.</p><p>It took a moment for Nicky to answer and when he did, he stuttered. “Nice to meet you, Yusuf.”</p><p>“Likewise, Nicolo,” he whispered and beamed while happy, fat tears crawled out of his eyes. He wiped them off hastily. </p><p>Nicolo never dared to hope there was someone like him. He never would have wished this curse upon anyone. Joe had it the same, choosing to indulge in his lonely, warrior life and self-pity rather than ever search for someone to share his eternity with. But now, there were two of them. The absurdity of it made Joe hope it wasn’t all a dream, because if it were, he would have moved mountains to never wake up. Merrick’s brutal attack, ironically, was enough of a pinch to prove this was reality. And it made Joe happy beyond measure and reason.</p><p>“When I first woke up,” said Nicolo, and his voice teared through the comfortable silence, “After my first death. When I woke up, I was lying on a pile with the others. It was away from the battlefield, a pile of bodies ready to be buried. I don’t know how long I was out of it. The people around me, they were all bloody and cold and they were… grimacing. None of them woke up with me.” His eyes were red and Joe watched with care as his tears turned them into mirrors. “I was so alone and scared. I didn’t know what to do. So I prayed to my God to take my life, so I could join them. So I could die, too.”</p><p>Joe listened in silence, hiding his quivering lip in his hand while Nicky hopelessly tried to dry his eyes. He wondered if Nicky knew just how much he understood; just how much his first steps resembled Nicky’s.</p><p>“I died during the Siege of Jerusalem,” he continued, voice hitching on every sob he couldn’t keep in. “It was in the crusades, 1099. I was on the wrong side of history, but I didn’t know it back then. I was just so angry, so full of hatred. The first man I killed - I remember him, I remember the look in his eyes as he ran his blade through me. He killed me, too.” Nicolo traced the place of the cut on his chest and a hint of phantom pain seared him like a flame. “His eyes stared into mine until my heart stopped beating and I remember the light in them going out. At that moment, he didn’t feel like an enemy. He was just scared and angry, like me. I remember that, even when he was hating me as he died, it was a comfort to not die alone. It was the last time I didn’t feel on my own.”</p><p>When he looked up at Joe, Nicky found more than understanding on his face. He found those dark, fierce eyes he clearly remembered caked in blood and squinted with hatred, boring a hole into his chest and mind. His heart took a leap and landed deep in his stomach and Nicolo felt like the air escaped him and his skin was on fire. Shakily, Joe let his hands fall into his lap as if all his strength had left him and just sat there, staring into Nicolo’s eyes like he did for the very first time in Jerusalem. His vision was blurred with tears then, and it was blurred with tears now.</p><p>“Nicolo,” he whispered with his voice breaking. Those clear, blue orbs he became so obsessed with, he now knew why he couldn’t draw them right; why he couldn’t stop thinking about them. They were in the back of his mind since the very first time he tasted death, haunting and beautiful. He wanted to laugh at the irony of faith. He wanted to hug Nicolo until he was sore and kiss him and never let go. It felt like he finally found an anchor.</p><p>"You were wearing a cross. That's all I saw before we fell on the ground. Just that cross," he gasped. "They brought my body together with others’ to a pyre outside the city. That’s where I woke up."</p><p>Nicky’s lips trembled with too many words and he found himself unable to say out loud a single one. Joe smiled a warm, beaming smile and sniffed, letting his tears smother his cheeks.</p><p>“You were with me,” gasped out Nicky, “You were there with me. Joe. Yusuf, I-”</p><p>“Nicolo,” said Joe in a calming voice, shifting up to his knees and reaching for him, “Words cannot express how happy I am to find you.”</p><p>And he said nothing more, looking into Nicky’s eyes with care and warmth that wrapped around him like a blanket. Nicky cried and hoped his chest would hold the size of his heart that welled up with Joe’s words.</p><p>“Me too.”</p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Damsel in Distress</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The van turned a right and Andy slowed down as she drove down the dirt road leading to the coast. She watched Booker through the rearview mirror, he was rummaging through the equipment stored in the back of the van with Zeus tucked under the bench. She would have to be blind to not notice how he busied his hands to stop them from twitching.</p><p>“How you holding up?” she asked.</p><p>He slung a second MP7 around his neck and climbed back to the passenger's seat, arms full of magazines. He proceeded to reload both guns, checking them over.</p><p>“As good as I can. What do you mean?”</p><p>“You’re scared.”</p><p>The ridiculous chuckle he let out didn’t convince her in the slightest.</p><p>“What should I be scared of?”</p><p>“Tell me, Booker,” she insisted and looked at him for as long as she could before looking back on the road, “You’re not alone in this anymore. Tell me what’s wrong.”</p><p>He fumbled with his hands and bit the inside of his cheek before he admitted, “I’m scared for Nile.”</p><p>“Didn’t you say all of us are-”</p><p>“I think, I think that all of us are immortal,” he corrected her and hated the uncertainty of it. “With Nicky, I’m almost sure. Joe is a gut feeling, too. But Nile… She’s so young, Andrea. She’s just a damn kid.” He turned red up to his ears and his chest compressed like a squashed tin can when he remembered how he left her in his room. She was so scared, so lost and vulnerable, and all he could manage was leave her alone. He revelled in hogging the blame, he realized, but he couldn’t help it. “Before I went to you, she was with me.”</p><p>Andy shot him another glance and recognized the look on his face; disappointment.</p><p>“She was with me and I left her there. Copley must’ve snatched her right after. Maybe if I stayed, just for a few moments… Jesus, Andy, what are they doing to them?”</p><p>“We’ll get her back, Booker. We’ll get everyone.”</p><p>He hung his head low in a nod of agreement.</p><p>Andy slowed the car to a stop and turned off the headlights as the air turned fresh and humid, and in the distance, the ocean waves reflected moonshine like a mirror pane. Sparing a glance at the GPS, Booker saw that their destination was only a few hundred metres down the road. </p><p>“Let’s go,” said Andy and got out of the car. </p><p>They geared up to their teeth; Booker armed with an MP7 and a Glock pistol and Andy with the same setup, plus her axe strapped to her back. A new generous sponsor Merrick provided them with bulletproof vests, as well as a few grenades that were stored in the back compartment of the van. There was a first aid kit, too, but they decided they wouldn’t need it. Booker knelt down to Zeus and scratched behind his ears, promising to come back with Nicky. To his surprise, the dog licked his hand as agreement and complied, staying behind to guard the van.</p><p>Walking through the dark field by the road, Booker asked, “Do you have a plan?”</p><p>“Never needed one before.”</p><p>He chuckled. “I think this might be the time for one, though.”</p><p>“They know we’re coming,” she uttered and Booker could tell she was planning on the go. “Not much of a surprise element then.”</p><p>As they spoke, the horizont rolled over and revealed a fenced entrance to a huge, dark tunnel. The high beam lamps, that sat on the corners of the fence, revealed five guards circling the area. Andy and Booker dropped to the ground and watched, Andy visibly contemplating whether charging at the guards stood a chance.</p><p>“I think we can still surprise ‘em,” he mumbled and clicked his tongue, drawing Andy’s attention to a shack he was nodding at, hidden away next to the tunnel, with braids of wires coming out of it.</p><p>“If that bunker is from the Second World War, there’s no electricity. Underground lines were unreliable, so each bunker had a generator of their own.”</p><p>“Yeah, but those were inside.”</p><p>“Yeah, well, I guess Merrick skipped that day in History.”</p><p>She gave him a satisfied grin and they got up and started circling the area. While the shack was fenced, Andy had observed that the guards never checked it and instead, took a smoke in front of the front door and then rotated positions. It was no challenge for Booker to cut through the fence and sneak inside once he knocked out the guard. Andy growled as the lights turned off and she stubbed her barely lit cigarette against the shack’s door.</p><p>“I thought it’d take longer than that.”</p><p>“I just cut all the wires I could see. What? You thought I was gonna hack a fucking generator?”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>He gave her a dismissive shake and they went to deal with the guards, who were now on high alert because of the blackout.</p><p> </p><p>“Mr. Merrick, are you sure?” asked the woman standing in front of him. Her face was sharp and the glasses she balanced on the tip of her nose added sternness she didn’t express in her voice. She was dressed in black with a lab coat thrown over her dress and her hair pulled back in a slick ponytail.</p><p>“Yes, I am, doctor. Go back to the lab. We’ll let Keane handle this.”</p><p>“Sir, you know how dangerous they are- We could-”</p><p>“I don’t care what Copley said!” screamed Merrick, smashing his fist on his table. The woman didn’t twitch, holding him in her gaze. “Get back to your office, doctor. Everything is taken care of. Our last line of defense will not fail.”</p><p>“As you wish,” she said and left the room.</p><p>Merrick walked to the heavy, steel reinforced door and turned the lever on them to lock it shut, shaking as he came back to his table.</p><p>Suddenly, all the screens on his computer shut off and the overhead light turned red, signalling backup batteries kicking in. </p><p>Hyperventilating, Merrick plunged for his radio and screamed into it, “What’s happening? Keane? Copley?”</p><p> </p><p>“Copy, sir. It’s them. They probably cut the power. Stick to the plan and stay put,” said Keane and lowered his hand from his ear. He looked at Copley, who even when barely illuminated in the red light, couldn’t hide the fear in his eyes. Taking hold of his gun, he followed Keane together with five of his men towards the exit. They were armed to the teeth with tasers and grenades filled with gas. Those worked only when they didn’t expect it, thought to himself Copley, who couldn’t help but not feel confident in their plan.</p><p>“If they want to do this in the dark, fine,” growled out Keane as he led his team towards the huge, steel door. “Open the gate. We’ll let them make the first move.”</p><p>“Do you really think they’ll walk into an ambush?” cried out Copley, watching the guards opening a huge door behind which a long tunnel of pitch black darkness stared back at him. “Keane, this is suicide.”</p><p>“Hold your line, Copley,” he barked back, getting into position to hide, as did the rest of the team. “If this gets too hot, we fall back and get Merrick out of here through the tunnel.”</p><p>“Yes, I know. I just hope you know what you’re doing right now.”</p><p> </p><p>Sitting across each other, feet barely a meter apart, Joe and Nicky were stuck studying each other’s faces. Every second he didn’t spend looking into Joe’s eyes felt wasted for Nicky, and somehow, he knew it was mutual. So the growl he let out as the lights flicked off and the room turned red was an honest sign of annoyance.</p><p>“What’s happening?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” mumbled Joe, watching the emergency lights in the ceiling. He doubted that the camera in the corner was hooked up to the emergency support. This was the opportunity he was waiting for, he realized. Nicky’s eyebrows hitched in surprise when suddenly, Joe curled himself up in a ball to reach his pant pocket with his chained hands. He brought out a paper clip that he twisted and turned between his fingers before he leaned forward to hold it between his lips. It somehow felt natural that he would wiggle his eyebrows and wink at Nicky before jamming it into the cuffs and clicking them open.</p><p>“You got practice,” mumbled Nicky in awe.</p><p>Joe laughed and said “I’d be surprised if this was your first time in cuffs.”</p><p>“Cuffs, yes. Chains?” uttered Nicky and it made Joe chuckle as he took the clip from his lips and opened his restraints as well. Once they fell off, like on instinct, they moved to hold each other. Nicky rubbed gentle circles into the reddened skin on Joe’s hands and Joe turned them upside down to hold onto his wrists in return. </p><p>“Are you really okay?” asked Nicky silently, seeking the color in Joe’s eyes. He was grateful for the red light, camouflaging the blush that had taken over his face.</p><p>“I am,” whispered back Joe. He reached up to stroke Nicky’s cheeks and the way his chest compressed told him he needed much more time alone with Nicky, once they got out of here. He wanted to know everything about his long life, he wished to be part of it from the very start and felt cheated of the moments they could have had together. They would need to make it up to each other. </p><p>Nicky didn’t dare to breathe in fear of Joe stopping. He leaned into his touch and closed his eyes, accepting the warmth like a long needed drag of fresh air. Finally, he wasn’t alone; he could enjoy the touch of another without the crippling guilt of leaving them behind and he felt overwhelmed. With a gentle squeeze, he made sure Joe wouldn’t get away.</p><p>It didn’t matter in the slightest where they were at the moment, or that it was in a madman’s underground bunker jail. They were together. </p><p>Just like they gravitated together, they let go as if on command and approached the door.</p><p>“Sudden black-out,” mused out loud Nicky.</p><p>“Doubt it was a malfunction. I have a feeling it’s someone who’s on our side.”</p><p>Perking up like a dog, Nicky caught Joe’s eyes as they both thought the same thing.</p><p>“The others,” they said in unison and caught each other in a dumb, shared smile. More people like them. Comrades, friends, family. Nicky always felt foolish hoping for such things before, and the feeling didn’t leave him now. It was too good to be true. But whoever it was, they presented them with an opportunity to get out, and they wouldn’t let it pass.</p><p>“Every door in a bunker needs to be opened from the inside,” muttered Nicky while knocking on the steel plate of the door until he heard a hollow sound. Joe grinned as he watched Nicky unscrew the sheet of metal with the paperclip he passed him. Once he reached inside the door, his calloused hands found the sawn off lever and with a rough tug, the heavy door clicked open. Joe slid through the crack into the hallway, startling the two guards that stood by the door.</p><p>“Hey! Fuck!”</p><p>One reached for his radio and received a punch straight to his nose, the other guard scrambled to shoot and managed to let loose a bullet that crawled into Joe’s back. By the time he let go of the trigger, Nicky was on him and wrestled his gun away, kicking in his knee and sending him to the floor. With a quick swing, the gun-stock in Nicky’s hands knocked both guards out and he stood up to check on Joe.</p><p>“I’m fine. Let’s go,” he urged on, already shaking off the pain. Nicky handed him the MP7 and grabbed two handguns instead, leading the way through the red-lit hallway.</p><p>In a hushed voice, he asked: “You know the way out?”</p><p>“I doubt there’d be an exit sign here,” mumbled Joe.</p><p>They checked around each corner as they ran through the labyrinth of grey walls until a muffled explosion rang out in the distance. One shared glance later, they knew what it meant - the others. Gunshots soon followed and like wolves lured in by the smell of blood, Joe and Nicky followed the sounds until they stumbled out into a dark tunnel amidst a flurry of bullets. Guns raised and immediately finding cover, they fixated on the cloud of smoke that started to smother the space.</p><p>“Put on the damn mask!” yelled Keane and Joe immediately recognized his voice. The thick fog did nothing to hide the monstrous frame of him where he was crouching behind a crate in the opposite side of the tunnel, gas mask in hand and tossing another to a man across from him - Copley, Nicky realized. They only exchanged a nod before both of them mentally agreed on taking them out. For a split second, a muzzle flash reflected off a gas grenade in Keane’s hand and Joe didn’t hesitate to take the shot. It exploded in Keane’s hand and he screamed as thick, creamy smoke engulfed him and Copley.</p><p>“Andy!” </p><p>His voice, followed by a fit of coughs, stilled both Joe and Nicky as if they were rooted in the ground. For the first time in their short freedom, they felt a sting of fear again. Andy and Booker were like them - they had to be, and they were here for them, to break them out. This was the peak of friendship, Joe thought to himself senselessly, and couldn’t hold back a desperate, honest smile. When you are alone, all your painfully long life, and a pack of other immortals come get you out of trouble, you don’t just sit there.</p><p>They pulled the necks of their shirts over their faces, holding breaths as they leapt out of their cover into the smoke. First two guards tumbled to the ground riddled by Nicky’s bullets, another three were sent out by Joe. One of the killers got the unfortunate treatment of being shot by both. It didn’t take long for them to take out the rest of Keane’s team - there couldn’t be more than ten men and none of them expected a counter attack from behind. They held their heads low as they walked through the thick poison that scratched at their necks and burned their eyes and blood hurled out of their mouths in harsh coughs by the time they found Andy tugging unconscious Booker out of the fog. Joe grabbed Booker under his shoulder and Nicky slung Andy over his back and they carried them outside. With a quick glance on the scattered bodies and no danger in sight, Joe put Booker down and Nicky gently lowered Andy. Taking a moment to see her breathing and coughing out the gas, he sprang back up to his feet and ran back inside.</p><p>“Nile,” whispered Joe, wiping away the blood from his lips. He watched Nicky with ache, there was no doubt in his mind that were she there, he would bring her back.</p><p>“She’s not with us,” mumbled Booker, getting back the feeling in his limbs in spasms of muscle. Joe soothed him with a pat on his back and stroked away the bloodied hair from his face.</p><p>“She’s not?” </p><p>Her throat recovering, Andy spoke up in a harsh, low tone: “We thought she was with you.”</p><p>“Then she’s somewhere in the labs."</p><p>Nicky came back then, coughing and hunching over and he puked out an ounce of blood before he collapsed on the ground in a heap. It came to Joe as naturally as breathing, to be right by his side, holding onto Nicky’s arm with care and stroking his cheek, eyes wide with something he himself didn’t recognize. Why was it so painful to see him in pain? They were immortal. They would always survive. Yet, it felt like his chest was being stabbed clean through with a spear when he wiped away the blood from Nicky’s chin.</p><p>“She’s not there,” he mumbled, swallowing the last of his blood with a gag. He took Joe’s hand and squeezed him to confirm he was fine before he crawled over to Andy, checking on her. Joe did the same to Booker who was now taking deep breaths.</p><p>Andy was leaning against the concrete wall, limp like a doll, lost in the sight of Nicky’s deep, blue eyes that scanned her over like she was the most precious, fragile thing. He took hold of her head and gently stroked her hair.</p><p>Fat tears already hanging onto his eyelashes when he asked: “Are you okay?” </p><p>She responded with a flurry of excited nods and she pulled him close until she could rest her forehead against his and her hands were holding his tight. She cried, too, and she could hear Booker laugh as he kissed Joe’s face and then crushed his body against his in a tight hug. Joe muffled his chuckle into his neck, holding him like there was a chance he would slip away was he not stopping the circulation in his body with his grip.</p><p>They switched after a moment, like at a family gathering where one had to shake hands with all of those relatives they’d never seen, except this time the affection was genuine and no one wished for it to end.</p><p>Nicky stared at Booker like he had a second head, watching the wounds he received trying to save them heal before his eyes. He looked like he was trying to start apologizing, his eyes were already wet and his breaths ragged with crying, and Nicky knew he didn’t want to hear any of it and opted to pull him close instead. The hug was warm and sincere and he closed his eyes as he embraced Booker like a long lost brother. He was ready to love him and die for him, and he knew Booker felt the same when he squeezed him tenderly back.</p><p>Joe looked at Andy and gave her a shaky smile. She ruffled his hair and held him tight and he hoisted them both off the ground, spinning Andy in his hug. She laughed and the sweet, soft chuckle made all their heads turn.</p><p>“Nile,” sniffed Booker once he wormed away from Nicky, “We have to go get her. Where is she?”</p><p>“I didn’t see her,” said Joe and his eyes searched Nicky’s for answers, but he didn’t have any either.</p><p>“We have to go inside,” said Andy and reloaded her gun. The others followed suit without further questions, gathering their weapons and counting the bullets in magazines. </p><p>“They held us each in a different lab, Nile has to be in one of those,” said Joe and Booker bit down the worries on his tongue.</p><p>“We’ll search the place. We’ll find her,” said Andy. She spoke to everyone but made sure to look at Booker as she did. He granted her a weak, subtle nod.</p><p>The smoke had subsided by the time they walked back into the tunnel. Their feet carried them through the gate and past the bodies that covered the floor. On their way, Booker and Joe checked for signs of life and if it wasn’t for the hurry to find Nile, Joe thought he would like to check and find Keane’s dead body and see the slash he put to his face, but it could wait. He would find Nile first.</p><p>They were back in the maze of grey walls and red lights, Andy leading the group with Booker close behind and Joe and Nicky at the tail. They opened each door they encountered and like clockwork, cleared the room while checking each others’ backs. The first two labs they encountered were empty and Nicky and Joe recognized them as their torture chambers. The next two rooms after seemed to be barracks and utilities.</p><p>“Where is she?” growled Booker, aiming his gun into an empty locker room.</p><p>“And where is Merrick?” asked Andy, feeling agitated.</p><p>Joe frowned, it didn’t sit right with him either. “We saw him just a few minutes before the lights went out. He’s gotta be here.” </p><p>At the end of the hallway, as if it lined itself up to be the last in the queue to be opened, stood a huge, heavy door. It didn’t budge an inch when Booker grabbed the lever.</p><p>“Shit, I’ll go get the grenades they had back there." He let go just as the door clicked open on its own.</p><p>All of them fell into a ready-to-shoot position and Booker backed off, keeping the door in his sights as it slowly opened, revealing Nile. She was standing still as a statue, her skin flushed and eyes bulged out, chest restrained as if she was scared taking a breath would make her shatter.</p><p>He immediately eased up and lowered his weapon, taking a step forward. “Nile.”</p><p>“Uh-oh. I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” said Merrick, hiding behind her and clutching her jacket’s collar. He had a Glock aimed at her head from behind, trying to make up for his height with an outstretched arm that kept Nile on her tiptoes. “Put down the weapons.”</p><p>Joe narrowed his eyes and his lips curled in anger, his brows tightened. Nicky’s eyes gleamed with a flame that Merrick knew to evade and Andy took out her axe, very ready to slice through Merrick at the first opportunity he gave her. Booker just stood there, white-faced and with his hands suddenly clammy.</p><p>His eyes searched for Nile’s but she kept hers glued to the floor, shaking with what Booker thought was anticipation of a shot. He couldn’t help the memory that crawled out from within him, seeing her so scared and confused and so, goddamn sad, crying on his bed. Someone so hopeful, cheerful and someone who had their shit together, so unlike him, crumbled into pieces before him. She was a child. She was someone so young, so full of plans and future that he couldn’t fathom how she could ever cry. Perhaps he was wrong in thinking she was like them. He did nothing to help her back then, he would not repeat his mistake. He wouldn’t do anything to put her life in jeopardy, so he lowered his weapon.</p><p>“Book?” asked Andy, calmly.</p><p>“I’m not sure,” he said and he knew how his voice trembled, “I’m not sure if she’s like us. Put down the weapons. Please.”</p><p>Joe was the first one to budge, his usually warm, calming eyes creased with worry for Nile; for her fragile, young life that he couldn’t imagine hurting. He lowered his weapon and Andy dropped her axe. Nicky followed suit, lowering his Glock to his chest.</p><p>“That’s right, that’s right,” said Merrick with a confident smile. “You’re gonna let me walk out of here. And you’re not gonna follow me or her head goes ‘pop’! You hear me?!”</p><p>He pushed Nile in front of him and took a step. They all gave space as he walked out of his room, circling to walk backwards down the hall while using Nile as a human shield. His foot slipped on Andy’s axe and that’s when Nicky’s gun rose back up and he took a shot, grazing Merrick’s hand. He screamed and dropped the gun and Nile crouched in shock.</p><p>“You want it like this?! Fine!” screamed Merrick, holding his bloodied hand. “Kill them!”</p><p>Andy’s brows twitched in contempt for the man, the sad shell of his life that he was so keen on protecting, calling for guards that were long dead. She bowed down to pick up her axe but a foot slammed the double blades back on the floor.</p><p>Looking up, Andy stared at Nile, whose chin was cramped with a clench of her jaw and her eyes were set narrow and angry. </p><p>“Nile?” asked Andy, barely a whisper.</p><p>Nile crouched down to pick up Merrick’s gun. Her movements seemed to be artificially slowed down, dragging them out until the last of Merrick’s hurried steps were too far to hear. Then she faced them when she stood up, meeting Booker’s broken gaze and Nicky’s and Joe’s pained eyes.</p><p>“Nile, what are you doi-”</p><p>She aimed and shot Booker into his thigh. He fell on the floor with a gasp. Before Joe could react, a bullet seared through his heart. Nicky got two in his chest.</p><p>“Nile!” screamed Andy, standing up with a hand raised in front of her. “Think about this! What are you doing?!”</p><p>Booker growled on the floor, blood seeping past his hand on the wound, and Andy quickly scanned Nicky and Joe, lying motionless. She looked back at Nile to find her crying, her cheeks twitching with a sob she didn’t want to let out, her trembling hands holding her gun to Andy’s face.</p><p>“Are you like us, Nile? Are you one of us?” asked Andy, her lips crooked in haunting dismay.</p><p>“I’m nothing like you!”</p><p>And she pressed the trigger.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Yes, sir</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>A Year Ago</em>
</p><p>“Fuck you, Freeman.”</p><p>“Fuck you, Ali.”</p><p>“No, she’s right, Freeman. Fuck <em> you </em>. There’s my twenty bucks on the line.”</p><p>Huffing out a chuckle, Nile grabbed the side of the table to have more leverage.</p><p>“Fucking… cheatin’...,” pushed through her teeth Dizzy. At this point, her forearm felt like it was about to snap and she could see all the tendons on her trembling hand bulging out. She grabbed the table and her feet slid across the dirt ground to plant themselves firmly and get her the leverage to push Nile’s hand down. And she did, throwing her hands up in a victorious howl while Nile did the same in defeat.</p><p>“Hell yeah! <em> Unbeaten </em>!”</p><p>Nile faked a scowl and got up just to dramatically point at the ground. “What about those feet? You rehearsing a dance under the table?” </p><p>“Hey! No complaints once the fight is over!” said Jordan and held out a hand in confidence it would be filled with the twenty bucks she bet on this win.</p><p>While Dizzy boxed in the air behind her, in an overly dramatic manner, Nile mimicked the shit-eating grin that played on Jordan’s face while she counted out the cash into her palm. </p><p>“When are you gonna bet on me?”</p><p>“When you stop losing? Maybe?” she grinned and hugged Nile around the shoulders, dragging her out of the tent, “Tonight we dine on me!”</p><p>“Whatever, man. I am <em> so </em> gonna kick your ass next time, Diz.”</p><p>“I’d like to see you try.” Dizzy walked a pace behind them, visibly bloating with her victory that, to be honest, Nile let her have, she comforted herself. They took over the corner table in the mess tent, complaining about the food like usual, and at times like these, Nile felt so sure of the direction her life was taking.</p><p>When she had signed up for the military, she told herself it was for her father - and to be honest, partially, it was - but the real reason had always been money. Nile knew it and her mother and brother did too, but none said it out loud. Taking up the military in the name of their dad was simply a better reason; more honorable. They had just enough to live comfortably thanks to the sacrifices her mom had made and Nile knew that she would like nothing more than to see her take hold of her passion for art. She sensed the guilt her mother put upon herself for not providing her with a college fund like other kids’ parents did, but Nile never saw it that way. Ever since she was a child, she looked up to her mom, like all kids do, after all, but Nile always sensed a little more in her. Not just her motherly, caring side, but her determination, her will to succeed and to have her kids succeed, the unwary fire within her that powered their entire family. </p><p>Nile grew up hoping to catch a spark of her mother’s flame so she could light a torch of her own, as she liked to imagine it. A beaming light within her that would make her just as strong, willful and headstrong and brave. She didn’t remember much of her father, but she imagined he had a flame just like that, a family trait that would be passed onto her and her brother.</p><p>Every opportunity for improvement Nile had taken, and every challenge that stood before her, Nile accepted with excitement.</p><p>She thought it would be no different in the military but found herself doubting her steps as soon as the first 100 push ups. It was then that she learned of the importance of friends; a friend could show you the correct form of a push up; a friend in the kitchen got you mashed potatoes made out of actual potatoes and a friend in the office got you an extra day of permitted leave from the base. For some time, friendships became a business and during her time in bootcamp, Nile traded and wrote contracts and watched the stocks fall and rise. It wasn’t until the first deployment that friendships turned back into friendships. In live fire, the person you befriended was the watchful eye on you while you crawled under a spray of bullets to gain an advantage point. There, Nile experienced what to <em> trust </em> meant.</p><p>In her life, she learned that she was strong, and she learned that she needed friends, for the times when she was not strong enough.</p><p>It was Dizzy on the gun and Jordan in the passenger's seat when Nile drove a humvee through the never-ending desert of Iraq and it was them with her again when they got caught in a crossfire between the local groups, and Nile and Dizzy held their positions as Jordan called for backup. It was them two who sat with Nile when she got homesick and cried in her bunk, and they sat next to her and traded their backstories like pokemon cards, trying to find out who had the rarest one. </p><p>And Nile felt content sitting in the mess tent in crazy hot weather, eating bland, packet food and bickering about the sergeant they all hated. This is where she belonged; this is where she thrived and this is where she trusted and was trusted in return. </p><p> </p><p>When she woke up, the only word in her mind was <em> Why? </em></p><p>Why was she awake? Why was she not dead?</p><p>She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose until it hurt. There was a clear image there, imprinted on the inside of her eyelids: Dizzy crying above her with hands covered in the blood that gushed from her own neck. And her voice, screaming her name over and over again until it flew away into the distance and the view of her bled into all white.</p><p>Absentmindedly, she reached for the wound and the roughness of the bandages grounded her, granting her relief that she knew was too haste. As if the bandages could explain why she was awake; as if they meant that she <em> didn’t </em> die back there.</p><p>She sunk back onto the pillow and stared straight ahead. Her mind buzzed with questions that no one was around to answer and it made her head feel too heavy, too full. She closed her eyes and tried to sleep. Maybe she didn’t wake up for real, maybe this was all a dream and she was still on that dirt floor, bleeding out in Dizzy’s hands. It seemed more plausible than being alive.</p><p> </p><p>Next time she awoke, the doctor came by to check on her. When he took off the bandages, the shocked expression on his face caused Nile’s to scrunch up with worry. “Doc?”</p><p>“Jesus, Freeman,” he muttered, “How you feeling?”</p><p>“Okay, doc,” she answered warily, touching her neck and searching for - expecting - to graze her fingers across a scar. But her skin was smooth. “I don’t feel anything?”</p><p>He held her in an icy stare that sprung goosebumps all around her skin before he tried to say something but stopped himself, then he left. She watched him leave with disgust and anger and searched the bedside table for a handheld mirror. Once she found it, she examined her neck. What could cause an army doctor to make <em> that </em> face?</p><p>She expected anything but the smooth, flawless skin that reflected in the mirror. It was as if a knife hadn’t cut through her skin and jugular. It was as if her wound had sealed itself overnight. Nile shut the mirror back into the drawer.</p><p> </p><p>The weight of her uniform felt foreign on her skin, like it was not hers to wear. The Freeman who trained in these fatigues bled out in them, too, and it was unfair that this Nile was to wear her uniform now. </p><p>Foolishly, Nile hoped that everything would settle once she saw Dizzy and Jordan. Somehow, it was obvious to her that they would see her and envelop her in a warm hug right away, telling her jokes about being raised from the dead or how she looked like a ghost - all with wide smiles and laughs. That was the reason it hurt so much to see them standing three arm lengths away, unwilling to come closer.</p><p>“Nile, there’s not even a scratch,” mumbled Jordan.</p><p>With a shaky hand, Nile caught her neck once more, hoping that this time it would be right; this time, there would be the scar -- but there was nothing. “Yeah,” she improvised, “They used some new skin graft technique.”</p><p>“That’s what the doctor told you?” Dizzy wore a sceptical look that Nile wanted to hide from under the bed.</p><p>“Yeah,” she lied, “That's what they told me.”</p><p> </p><p>The next few days were harder to swallow and the feeling of foreignness never went away. Nile became an impostor; she was no longer a part of her platoon, she was the extra one. It was the little things at first: when she trained on the mat, the other soldiers chose to take the machines, when she ate her launch, her friends were always busy catching up on some chores and when she came into her tent, the conversations halted and the smiles slid off everyone’s faces like rainwater down a roof. </p><p>She didn’t cry, because that would only remind her that there was no one to comfort her. No matter how hard she tried to dive into her training and mission plan, thinking that it would take her mind off things, Nile knew she was starting to crack. She wasn’t strong enough to hold like this for long, and she had no friends to keep her going.</p><p>Like a broken record, the voice inside her head kept telling her that things would settle and that she needed to give everything time. Nile always thought it was the voice of her mother: calming her, guiding her, but no matter how hard she wanted to, she couldn’t bring herself to believe it. It was just a desperate, little voice of her consciousness, trying to argue against the fact she already accepted: something was wrong with her. When she was strong, she let herself theorize of what it could be and her mind wandered from aliens and X-men to secret government experiments with super soldier serums. But all of those were too crazy to be true and so she always ended up drifting back to reality. Maybe she simply survived. She wouldn’t be the first case of cheating death. It hurt so much more then, to find a reason for why she was so alone. Were they not happy that she was back? Did they secretly wish for her to die?</p><p>“Freeman.”</p><p>“Sir.”</p><p>“Pack your bags, we’re sending you to Germany for some more tests.”</p><p>“But, I feel fine, sir.”</p><p>Her captain handed her a pair of dog tags instead of answering. She recognized them and ran her thumbs over the indents spelling out her name.</p><p>“We took these off you,” he said then, grimly, “Thought we’d lost you.”</p><p>It wasn’t really a choice, but she went and packed her bags willingly, excited even. Maybe there were previous cases of cheating death but perhaps she cheated it too well, too perfectly. Being sent out to Germany meant confirmation of her worries. Something was wrong with her, something that deserved the attention of her supervisors. She held her head high when she walked to the chopper that took her to the airport; she wanted answers for her questions. She wanted to <em> heal </em>. She wanted to be Nile Freeman again.</p><p>It hurt only a little that Dizzy and Jordan never said their goodbyes. In the back of her mind, Nile reasoned that they hoped for her to come back, so goodbyes were not necessary. It made her cry on the plane to Bonn.</p><p> </p><p>When she arrived, an army officer drove her to a university hospital, where an entire wing had been cleared out seemingly just for her. There was a single bed laid in the middle of a wide, white room, next to a closet and a table with a single chair. Instead of windows there were mirrors and Nile could feel the eyes on the other side setting on her skin like cobwebs in an old attic. She shook them off and tossed her bag under the bed once the soldier left her alone. </p><p><em> What’s next? </em> she thought. She could handle needles for blood tests, or those too-deep-for-comfort throat swabs that she suffered through before bootcamp. Maybe they would like to test her endurance, her memory: maybe she would get one of those helmets they use for neuroscans and such. The funny thoughts kept the darker ones at bay as she waited for someone to come - for the tests to start. She was ready to figure out what was wrong with her and to deal with it. She wanted to go back to Dizzy and Jordan, it didn’t feel right to abandon her mission in the middle of it. But most of all, she wanted to see her mom and brother. And she wanted to be all in order once she did. Not wanting to worry them, she didn’t let them know about her little trip to Germany yet, and now, she was thumbing at the black screen of her phone, already thinking of words she would type once she knew what was going on.</p><p>The door opened and Nile stood at attention, looking straight ahead. Only there was no high ranking officer to salute to - only a questionably dressed man with unruly curly hair and a sleazy posture, walking in with wide, confident strides and greedy eyes. By his side entered the room a woman as well, unlike him she walked with grace and the white doctor’s coat she wore swirled around her feet with every step. She looked kind and intelligent and the opposing energies of the two split Nile’s composure in half.</p><p>“Nile Freeman!” cried the man with excitement. If it was not for her training, Nile might have gotten startled. </p><p>“Yes, sir.” She scanned them both from head to toe but kept her shoulders in line and back straight.</p><p>“Ah, at ease! At ease. I’m Steven Merrick. Not a general, or a captain. I’ve got no rank outside the CEO,” he said and peppered in a laugh, “Nice to meet you.” He held out a hand that Nile shook with a firm grip, trying to quickly search her memory for his name, wondering if she should know who he was. It sounded too familiar.</p><p>“Likewise, sir,” she said politely.</p><p>He granted her a smile, that made her feel bad for categorizing him as sleazy, and took a sidestep to present the woman. “And this is Dr. Kozak. You’ll be working together. Really closely.”</p><p>“Nice to meet you, Nile,” came out of the woman’s tight lips. Her voice was woven with an eastern accent and Nile felt calm knowing she’d be in her hands.</p><p>Unlike Merrick, the doctor looked professional and kind and that’s when it hit her: <em> Merrick Industries </em>, the name that appeared on every crate in the field hospital. She was meeting the man behind every bandage and aspirin they had out there.</p><p>Suddenly humbled, Nile made a tiny, shy bow before stuttering: “It’s an honor to be here, Mr. Merrick. Thank you.”</p><p>“Now, now. All the pleasure is on <em> our </em> side.” He grinned and his eyes ate her up like zoo visitors’ would a tiger in its enclosure. She flinched and looked towards the woman, who was observing them both. “You’re here for a special reason, Miss Freeman. Do you know what it is?”</p><p>“I had an accident,” she said and her voice was cracking already as she talked to the floor.</p><p>“Yes. A slit throat. Blood like from a pig.” Nile’s lip curled up in surprise and disgust but he didn’t seem to mind as he leaned in closer, watching her with the same fascination still plastered on his face. “Then tell me, Miss Freeman. Why are you still here? Breathing and talking like nothing ever happened?” </p><p>She noticed how his eyes slid from hers down her face and glued to her neck like his life depended on it. With a dry swallow, she took a step back and sought help with the doctor, speaking to her instead. “I don’t know. I don’t remember what happened. That’s why I’m here, right? For tests. To find out what happened to me.”</p><p>“Precisely, Nile,” said doctor Kozak. “I’d like to start right away, if you don’t mind.”</p><p>“Of course.”</p><p> </p><p>It was the basics at first: blood and plasma samples, urine, stool and tissue samples. With horror, Nile struggled through every needle that stabbed into her, hurting twice as much as she ever remembered because of her skin immediately trying to grow back around it.</p><p>She fell into shock the first time they took her blood; the first time she once again saw no scar or puncture. Her body hit the floor as she broke down and cried and the tests had to be postponed until the next day. She wasn’t getting any better, she thought, every new test only proved further how far from normal she was. She was healing too fast, too unnaturally. Every time the needle sank into her arm, Nile furrowed her brows and tried to <em> will </em> her body to not fight against it, to bleed and heal like a normal person’s body would. But it never did. </p><p>It crawled upon Nile slowly at first, like a snake slithering through grass, observing its prey, studying it before deciding when to sink its fangs into its flesh. At first, she was more than willing to take on more tests, even when they started to turn extreme, grotesque even. When blood tests and regular heart rate examinations didn’t show anything out of the ordinary, she agreed to run on a treadmill for hours, hooked up to dozens of sensors and wires that soon became drenched in her sweat. When that didn’t help, Nile agreed to a surgery, which proved more than difficult and left her screaming in pain in spite of drugs that would knock out a horse. Before she knew it, she was getting her bones broken every day, her flesh was getting cut up like in a butcher’s shop and she drank poison and acid and writhed in pain while the technicians around her watched and took notes.</p><p><em> The pain </em> , she found out soon. <em> The pain never goes away. </em> It didn’t matter how badly they carved her out, how painful the tests had been - she’d always wake up, she knew that now, she knew with certainty that she’d wake up after every horrifying injury and blood loss - but the pain stuck like wet clothes to skin. She didn’t get used to it as time went on, it always stung the same and it seared her through and through and it seemed to only magnify until it grew into a large, tall shadow that loomed over her all day and all night. It was just <em> too much. </em>If Nile had been cracked before, she now knew the cracks had spread and widened and it was only a matter of time before there was nothing left of her; she’d shatter like a glass plane.</p><p>“Doc,” she whispered one day, she had no idea <em> what </em> day it was, “I don’t want any more tests.” She spoke while a technician looped a tourniquet around her arm and then tended to the trey filled with scalpels, needles and knives. He was preparing her for yet another round of experimental stabbing that would leave her arm throbbing with pain and Nile was sick of it. With pleading eyes, Nile watched the doctor hide behind the thick frame of her glasses as she ignored her words and kept on writing into the chart in her hands.</p><p>“Hey, you hear me?” She made her voice louder and leaned towards her, waving a hand in front of her. “I’ve had enough. I don’t want any more tests. They’re useless.”</p><p>The doctor tucked a stray strand of her sleek, black hair behind her ear and then stared Nile down so she leaned back into her seat. “I’m sorry Miss Freeman, we cannot stop. Don’t you want to know what happened to you? We can’t find out how to fix you unless we keep going.”</p><p>“I’m fine. I don’t need fixing,” huffed Nile through her teeth. She wasn’t sure if she was lying. She just wanted the pain to stop. “Please, doc. It hurts.”</p><p>Hearing the hurt in her voice, doctor Kozak put away the chart and approached her, a caring smile snuck onto her face, so fleet that Nile thought she must had imagined it when it was gone the moment she blinked. The doctor caressed her shoulder and the simple gesture sent goosebumps down Nile’s broken body. She sighed and leaned onto her for support, close to crying, being held by someone after so long. Nile closed her eyes and opened them only when she felt the belts loop around her arms, chest and legs. The doctor and her technician secured Nile to the seat, tightening the straps so she wouldn’t be able to move.</p><p>“No,” she cried out, “No! What are you doing? Let me be. I don’t want to do this anymore! You can’t do this!”</p><p>“Administer the sedative and proceed with the test,” said doctor Kozak and didn't spare a glance at Nile as she left the room. </p><p>It didn’t matter how much she struggled against the restraints, or how much she tried to wiggle away from the needle, the fangs sunk into her neck and she drifted off knowing that she’d be stabbed and carved up, and once she would wake up, the process would repeat. No matter how many times she’d scream for them to stop, her pleas would fall upon deaf ears, and Nile felt her torch being snuffed out like a drowned candle wick.</p><p> </p><p>“Just to be clear, Copley, was it?”</p><p>“Yes, sir. James Copley,” said the man standing on the opposite side of the way-too-large table that Merrick was lounging behind. </p><p>“Copley,” he repeated slowly, “I’m not asking you to write up a report or be all proper. I want you to be <em> discrete </em>. You got some experience with that, right?” Copley granted him a humble smile and nodded his head in agreement, which pleased Merrick enough to put up his feet on the table. “I want you to find someone for me. Someone special.” He played with scissors while talking, seemingly not paying any mind to his guest as he slid the scissors’ blade up and down the pad of his finger. “Immortals.”</p><p>It was hard to hide the smile that played on Copley’s face but Merrick didn’t seem to have any intent on humoring him.</p><p>“Your wife died recently, didn’t she?” And that was all it took for the smile to disappear. Merrick went back to play with the scissors without missing a beat. “ALS, huh? Nasty business, that. You know, we’re actually preparing a new form of treatment for ALS, it should be lab-test-ready in the next quarter. What a shame your wife is dead, she might’ve survived. Well, still only <em> might have </em>.”</p><p>“Mr. Merrick,” threatened Copley with a raised voice, staring him down like he would a man before punching his teeth out. But all Merrick did was mirror him, staring him down like it was him who was overstepping the boundaries.</p><p>“Now just imagine, <em> James </em>, the possibility of eradicating ALS, cancer and AIDS and all of that crap. The key to a genome so perfect, no illness or injury could ever harm it. Nobody would ever need to suffer through dying and leaving their loved ones behind.”</p><p>His body was half turned away, disgusted at Merrick, at his young careless attitude, at his indifference to the pain he brought up in him. But still, Copley looked back at him with intrigue, grasping at the straws of his words with hungry, sad eyes.</p><p>“Because that’s what I’m going to do, Copley. That’s what we’re going to do, together. You’ll help me bring peace into this world. We’ll chase death itself out of the door and lock it behind her.” With those words, Merrick dragged the blade down until it drew blood from his finger. With a smack of his lips, he sucked the blood out of the cut. “This,” he held up his finger where another bead of blood was already forming, “Will be a thing of the past.”</p><p>For a long, fat moment of silence, Copley just stood there and let the pain he was reminded of spread through him like disease. The ghostly touch of his wife’s hand on his shoulder made him shudder and the last memory of her smile stabbed at his heart one more time before he willed them away.</p><p>“You said ‘immortals’?” he asked.</p><p> </p><p>Diaries, reports and journals, but also rumours, legends and gossip filled up Copley’s days and nights. He felt nothing short of foolish for seeking out words like “undying”, “immortal”, “vampire” and “zombie” in long columns of texts but at the same time, he felt determined like never before. Something inside of him pushed him to keep going, no matter how ridiculous it sounded - the possible reward was too great to ignore.</p><p>Before he knew it his chase started to drag him backwards in time. History books started to line Copley’s office, soon covered by copies of documents so fragile they would crumble under touch; old registry records and photos, newspapers and magazines with text bleached from the sun and pages yellowed from old age. He barely slept, stabbing the pads of his fingers with pins and burning his skin on the yearn he wove around pictures and drawings and book illustrations that he knew were <em> clues </em>and desperately tried to connect them all together on the board, hoping that all of them would suddenly make sense if they were arranged just right.</p><p>Merrick held a firm believing that Nile - a young marine who surfaced as immortal earlier that year - was not the only one with such a gift. And it was up to Copley to find the others. He’d seen Nile with his own eyes, watching from behind a two way mirror how her body sealed back together after a scalpel cut through her arm like through butter. She bled, but the incision knit itself back together within seconds. It was then that he started to truly believe.</p><p>“You already have an immortal. Why should there be more? Why do you need more?” he asked Copley.</p><p>“I need more, Copley. I need every single one. I’m not gonna let anybody with a gift like that fall into the hands of my competitors. Besides, the more samples we have, the faster we find out what’s causing it.”</p><p>And so he kept searching and starving and not sleeping. It took him months to find the first two puzzle pieces that seemed to fit together. </p><p> </p><p>Sebastien Le Livre a.k.a. Booker, a French narco that made it big when he killed off every other dealer in Paris and made it his own playground. Known for his ruthlessness and daring, sometimes borderline stupid antics with the authorities. Had been in jail more times than out of it, according to his records that were oddly blurry about his childhood. Supposedly, on the many occasions that he’d been jailed, the police had only gotten out of him that he’d lived in an orphanage before running away when he was a teenager and not fully surfacing on the radar until he was 22, when his name started to collect arrests like if they were stamps. It wasn’t until he was 37 though, that he started to show off and terrorize the streets of Paris publicly.</p><p>Copley had seen cases like him and held nothing but contempt for such people. But Booker’s alarming lifestyle wasn’t what caught his eye. It was the pictures that the authorities collected of him - the one where he was drunk and snorting a line in a nightclub when one of his goons snapped a polaroid. Copley held it up like the holy grail and tripped over his own feet when he launched at the pile of books by his table. Searching through the pages like a madman, he finally settled on a page that was covered in a large, black and white photo, depicting a group of soldiers in the American Civil War. The picture was dated as 1868 and one of the men looked exactly like the drugged up and drunk Booker. </p><p>It felt desperate to follow such a faint lead, but Copley did it anyway. He found another picture of a paramedic from the earthquake in Bosnia and Herzegovina in 1969, then a picture of a World War Two ranger carrying a wounded soldier on his back in 1943, and finally a soldier covered in blood in a trench in France from 1912. Pictures taken decades apart all over the world - and they all showed the same man, same age, with the same sad eyes that stared at him from Booker’s mugshots.</p><p>He almost bit off his nails that night, cutting his fingers on the stiff pages of albums and books that he flipped through in search of Booker’s face. His childhood story was sketchy at best and his records could have been forged. Was he an immortal, like Nile? Did they not age at all? How far back could he go and see his face? How old was he?</p><p>His evidence board started to form a timeline that engulfed Copley completely. It was hard to trace anything beyond the invention of photography with only texts and paintings to rely on, but Copley attempted anyway. The eldest mention of a soldier that matched Booker’s description was from American Civil War, was that when he turned immortal? But he was visibly older than Nile. Were they born with the ability, or did they just stop aging at some point, frozen in time while the world changed around them?</p><p>Something tugged at the strings of Copley’s heart when he followed the lead further, finding that with time, the man turned from a soldier and a savior to an assailant, a conman and a criminal. Before his violent raging in Paris, Booker’s face appeared in Romania in 1982, on a death penalty sentence for multiple murders. Next were numerous arrests all around the world for drunk driving, robberies, personal injury, attempted and carried out murders and treason, dating from 1975 up to 2010. Different names, different identities, all considered dead or missing and forgotten. </p><p>Looking at his computer screen, Copley rubbed his chin until his fingers were rubbed raw from his stubble. The face that now haunted his dreams was staring back at him from the screen, all smiles and drunken eyes, holding a board with his (fake?) name and sticking out his tongue in his latest mugshot as ‘Sebastien ‘Booker’ Le Livre’. </p><p>“What happened, Sebastien?” He mumbled to himself and turned in his chair to stare at the board. It was all just guessing and speculating - a wild theory at best - but Copley saw a story unfolding between the strands of red yarn that connected his clues. At some point, Booker had stopped aging. And at some point in the long life of his, Booker had stopped caring. He had given up. Somehow, Copley knew that even if he was immortal, he hadn’t really been living for forty years now. </p><p> </p><p>He needed proof - and if not proof, a <em> feeling </em> , he wanted to know who Sebastien Le Livre was. Copley got on a plane to France and it was no challenge for a man of his skills to find where Booker had been hiding. He hadn’t really been <em> hiding </em>, honestly. His gang was occupying an old hotel on the outskirts of Paris that served as a brothel during the day and a nightclub during the night. It was almost too easy to slip in during one of the club events and install cameras in the rooms where Copley thought it counted. All it took then was to settle in his actually nice hotel room in the city centre, paid for by Merrick Industries, and take out his laptop and wait. He checked that his microphones and cameras worked and searched the individual feeds for Booker. He found him sitting in the VIP room, that resembled more a junkyard than anything VIP, with two girls sitting next to him and one of his goons stumbling about, kicking back a shot. Booker was hunched over a filthy coffee table where he was arranging white powder into neat, short lines with his credit card. Once he was satisfied, he pulled out a bill and rolled it up, snorting one of the lines. Copley watched him hand the bill to the girls and then slump back against the couch with his arms spread out, satiated, staring at the ceiling with empty, glassy eyes as his high started to kick in.</p><p>He thought it was useless all of sudden; that his research and trip to Paris were all in vain. This was no warrior, no immortal being shouldering the weight of hundreds of years, this was just a pathetic, broken man that was far too gone. He reached to close his laptop when the microphone picked up a buzzing voice.</p><p>“<em> Get out. </em>” Said the Frenchman.</p><p>Copley stiffened and turned his full attention back to the screen. Booker was still lying on the couch, watching the ceiling with a tired scowl. But his face had no more signs of a high. It was as if the taste of the coke suddenly turned sour and he looked nothing short of disgusted. </p><p>“<em> What? </em>” laughed one of the girls and leaned over to kiss him.</p><p>“<em> I said get out! </em> ” He lashed out at her and pushed her away, upon which she gathered her girl friend and they both swore and threw the rolled up bill at his face, then left. With heavy hands, he wiped at his face and brushed back his hair as he stood up, circling the room. “ <em> You too. Get out.” </em></p><p><em> “What the fuck, Booker?” </em> asked the goon.</p><p>“<em> Get out you fucking idiot! Get out! Get out!” </em></p><p>
  <em> “Fuck you!” </em>
</p><p>He was at him in a second, lifting the man up to his tiptoes with ease. Copley wrote down a note about superhuman strength, but then crossed it out and considered it the effect of the drugs in his system. No matter which it was, Booker was holding his goon by the collar, choking him while dragging him up so their eyes were the same level.</p><p>“<em> I own you, you dimwit. If I say I want you to get out, you get the fuck out. Do we understand each other?” </em></p><p><em> “You think you’re so tough, Booker,” </em> growled the man, holding onto his big hands and trying to pry a bit of space between his throat and the tight squeeze. “ <em> You think we don’t see you crying like a little bitch? Every fucking night. If you’re not cut out for this business, we’ll find someone else who is.” </em></p><p>Even through the camera feed, Copley saw the trembling that took hold of his arms as he slowly lowered the man to the ground, laughing at him. </p><p><em> “Listen here, Pietro,” </em> said Booker and patted the man’s cheek. “ <em> If there’s someone in this room who’s expendable - it’s not me.” </em> And he slid his hands back to his neck and squeezed. It was hard to watch the man writhe and kick at Booker to stop, but Copley didn’t look away - no, he watched until the end. Until the man turned blue and his voice disappeared, that was when Booker let go, shoving him away. The goon seemingly coughed out his lungs as he finally took in air, and Copley felt the same relief he did, wiping sweat from his forehead.</p><p>“<em> Now get out,” </em>said Booker coldly and slumped back onto the couch, waiting until his almost-victim ran out of the room to sink his fingers into his hair. He screamed then, cradling his head and wobbling back and forth. When that didn’t help, he stood up and broke the coffee table and punched three holes into the walls, upon which he took out a packet of coke and shoved a gram of it into his nose with his pinky. Then he smoked a whole pack of cigarettes, drinking every puff down with whiskey.</p><p>He rampaged for what seemed like eternity until finally, he settled into the corner of the room, on the floor. He shielded his hand from the blue, dim lighting and with a bottle in his hands, he dozed off. </p><p>Copley closed his laptop and stared straight ahead, studying the wallpaper in his room with intense interest. Opening the laptop up again, he found his files and made a note into Booker’s documentation: ‘Probable’.</p><p> </p><p>It wasn’t as easy for the rest of the immortals. Unlike Booker, who seemed to leave traces wherever he went, the others didn’t and Copley wondered whether it was because they were careful to be caught, or because they simply didn’t do anything to get on the radar. Still, he noticed another face that repeated itself throughout history.</p><p> </p><p>A young man with black hair and usually a beard. One picture showed him in camo in the Democratic Republic of the Congo in 1972, another, undated, taken of him wearing a british uniform during the Second World War in Germany, and another in 1934, showing him helping the miners in the Gresford disaster. Copley even found a painting that resembled him, depicting a soldier during the Battle of Copenhagen in 1801. Same case like with Booker; the man didn’t seem to age while taking part in history events that spanned over centuries. And once Copley ran his face through all the databases he could get his hands on, it led him to a name: Joseph Jones.</p><p>The man was an art history professor, with an impressive record of papers and publications, too. He had his university professor ID, a passport, a driving license and a few discount membership cards. Spent his childhood in Morocco and then moved with his family to the US, his parents died shortly after he graduated and then he spent some time travelling, until settling at an university in Berlin. All in order, all perfectly proper. He specialized in the 17th century but published papers on painters and poets from all eras. He seemed so clean, so perfect it only made Copley more determined to find the one mistake he had to have made. The one proof that would confirm his hunch.</p><p> </p><p>Following the professor around Berlin had proven futile; he went for runs early in the morning, then lectured at the university, wrote papers in his office, went for a lunch with his colleague Sofia occasionally, went to the gym, where he was usually really mean to the punching bag, and then went into his apartment where he watched Buster Keaton movies or painted in his guest room. Two weeks of surveillance and Copley had nothing. He decided for a different approach and opted to bug Sofia, his colleague and seemingly closest friend, instead. Then he only had to wait - and it didn’t take long before she was running her mouth to a friend during a coffee break.</p><p>“<em> What about Joe, though? He’s an eye candy, right? </em>” asked her friend.</p><p>“<em> Ah shut up. As if I didn’t know. He’s a friend, though. Nothing romantic there. </em>”</p><p>“<em> Why. Is he gay? </em>”</p><p>“<em> You know what, actually? I’m not sure. He never dates anyone as far as I know </em>.”</p><p>“<em> But you’d be down, right? </em>”</p><p>“<em> Hey. I’m not just into looks. He’s a really good friend, a good colleague. He helps me all the time and is so nice. I’ve never seen him mad. Super patient with his students, as well. </em>”</p><p>
  <em> “Yeah, but that’s weird, isn’t it? Guy’s gotta have some kind of flaw.” </em>
</p><p><em> “Well </em> ,” started Sofia and Copley secured the radio in his ear with a hand, “ <em> But don’t tell anybody, okay?” </em></p><p>
  <em> “Right.” </em>
</p><p>“Right,” mumbled Copley into his palm.</p><p>“<em> Every university party that we’ve had - Christmas and the official events - he disappears. He never goes with us to the bars afterwards or anything. And I don’t know why, he’s super charming and sociable. It’s just weird. Like he has a curfew or something.” </em></p><p>
  <em> “Maybe he lives with his mom.” </em>
</p><p>The microphone Copley slid into the cover of her phone started to buzz as the two women erupted in a too loud of a giggle. He had to take out his radio for a moment to not go deaf.</p><p>
  <em> “But I gotta confess something. Last year, when we organized a charity run through the building, he stayed after the event to help me clean up the mess, and I did try to make a move on him.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Shit! And?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I have to say, that was the softest I’ve ever been turned down.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Agh. No happy ending?” </em>
</p><p>Copley decided he had heard enough and took out the radio, packed up his things and paid his bill and left the café. Be it luck or great timing, he knew that the university held a grand opening of a new laboratory at the end of the week. Maybe professor Jones would repeat his habit of disappearing, and Copley wanted to know where he went.</p><p>It was barely 11 in the evening when Jones left the party, in spite of the many pleas from his colleagues to stay. His excuse was that he needed to wake up early the next day - which was Saturday, but it was a good enough excuse for them to let him go. Copley followed him and when the professor drove straight home, he found himself immensely disappointed at the possibility of the mysterious disappearing really being only a self-imposed curfew.</p><p>But then another car stopped on the street and a man, whom Copley knew wasn’t a resident, walked into the building. The cameras he had installed in Jones’s apartment showed him stalking a circle in his living room and then anxiously fixing his hair in front of a mirror. The tension from his form didn’t disappear even when he opened the front door for the man who’d just arrived. </p><p>
  <em> “Coffee?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Sure.” </em>
</p><p>They sat on the couch and Copley had to check twice to make sure his microphones had not gone dead because he heard nothing, but they worked just fine. Jones made coffee and they drank it in silence until the man decided he’d had enough, assuming by his body language, and put his mug away, choosing to crawl into Jones’ lap instead. Feeling like a creep, Copley thought twice whether he should continue looking, but ultimately decided he had to. Intimate touches and brief kisses soon turned slow and heavy and he finally tore his gaze away when Jones led the man towards his bedroom.  </p><p>Was that all there was to it? Was he trying to hide that he was gay? Why? The community he lived in was more than open-minded, multiple of his colleagues were gay and one of the university’s rectors was in a same-sex marriage. He didn’t have a partner - no one, really. No family or relatives. No one to hide this from.</p><p>An hour later the two figures appeared back in the living room and Copley watched as the professor counted out a stack of bills that he handed to the man before saying goodbye and closing the door behind him when he left. Then he sunk to the floor and held his head in his hands for what felt like another hour before he finally stood up and went to sleep.</p><p>Copley found Jones’ file and wrote him down as ‘Probable’.</p><p> </p><p>Nicholas Smith was an enigma to Copley. He had the perfect record of a madman: deployment after deployment, sometimes with only a few weeks to rest in between. He kept coming back in spite of the horrors he’d seen. More than a hundred in-field surgeries performed meant countless lives saved, but countless lives lost, as well. As if saving lives wasn’t enough, in 2012, he passed the official training for a sniper, too, and had 42 confirmed kills under his belt by 2019. His military record noted that he had volunteered on a mission in spite of his superiors direct recommendation not to, multiple times. And he passed his afterwards psychological and physical evaluation with flying colors, every time - the man was a machine, seemingly unbreakable, unshakable. It was only a guess what kept him going. Copley doubted it was patriotism, as his official place of birth was supposedly RSA and his family moved to Italy when he was a child. </p><p>He almost felt as if his life was a proof on its own: it was practically impossible to tour the middle east in camo, repeatedly, and never get a single bullet, but it appeared doctor Smith did the impossible.</p><p>When Copley found his medical degree and military ID, he’d already seen his face multiple times. Oddly enough, he wondered whether people thought that every time they looked at him; he was the embodiment of every roman statue Copley had ever seen. Aside from being a possible inspiration for sculptors, Nicholas’ face appeared in a painting of The Haitian Revolution from 1800, in a portrait from the 16th century painted by Titian himself, and in multiple photographs from both First and Second World War, then in the Cuban Revolution in 1953, and then his face appeared in multiple military reports from the middle east, with different names and flags on his uniforms. But officially, the only legit identity Copley could find was Nicholas Smith. Spotting a pattern in the same blurry background as his previous targets - dead parents, growing up abroad and lots of travelling - Copley decided to take a closer look at doctor Smith.</p><p> </p><p>It wasn’t a surprise that he was away on a mission, so Copley went the other way and decided to visit one of the lives he had saved. Corporal Sergio Bianchi had been flown back home to Italy after a bullet found its way through his femur, shattering it and putting him in a wheelchair. He has been in recovery since, expected to walk again after his rehabilitation. In his report, he had mentioned doctor Nicholas Smith, very fondly and multiple times.</p><p>When he arrived at the rehabilitation centre, Copley introduced himself like a journalist writing a collection of war hero stories. He asked everything he could about Sergio before carefully turning the topic towards his injury.</p><p>“<em> Can you tell me how it happened, Cpl. Bianchi? </em>”</p><p>The man before him gave him a weak, little smile and Copley felt his consciousness taking over; he had no business prying information from a war veteran, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop. He gave the man as much time as he needed to collect his thoughts.</p><p>Then Corporal Bianchi spoke: “<em> It was just outside town. We were heading to a camp the locals set up away from the air strikes, they said they had injured so we took doc with us.” </em></p><p>Copley’s eyes gleamed as he leaned in, listening.</p><p><em> “I knew that a patrol cleared the road just two hours before us, so we thought we were safe. When the shooting started- I- I don’t even remember from which direction it was. They shot the tires and we crashed into a ditch. I think I got knocked out for a second because when I woke up, the car was already smoking and I heard voices as they started to approach the car. Paolo and the others, even doc - Nicky, he sat next to me - I saw them all with blood on their faces. I panicked, I grabbed my gun and stumbled out of the door. I saw that the car was riddled with bullets from the other side and I saw them coming to me. So I hid behind the car and I pressed the trigger and shot but I have no idea if I hit someone. They returned fire and then I just remember lying on the ground. I was sure I was dead. Until-” </em> He swallowed a lump in his throat and looked Copley straight into his eyes. “ <em> I know it sounds crazy, Mr. Copley, but I swear to God it happened like this. Nicky kicked out his door and started shooting. He had no cover, his seat was on the side they approached from, I have no idea how he wasn’t riddled through, but he wasn’t. That bastard had more luck than all of us combined.” </em> He laughed weakly, licking his lips to continue the story. “ <em> It was over just a few seconds later and then he rushed to me. He was covered in blood, it was everywhere on him and when I started freaking out, I remember he grabbed me and said ‘It’s not my blood, Serg. You’re the one bleeding here.’ He patched me up the best he could and then took the radio from Paolo and called for a lift. The others didn’t make it. Just me and Nicky.” </em></p><p>He was smiling when he finished, his sight focused on a tree just outside the window, talking into the space between him and Copley with care and tenderness, like if he’d just shared a secret.</p><p>
  <em> “He always has a pack on him. I remember he gave me one and we smoked while we waited for the medivac. It’s thanks to him that I’m alive today. I never believed in guardian angels, you know? But if they exist, Nicky definitely has one. And if not, then he’s mine.” </em>
</p><p>Copley considered Nicky probable.</p><p> </p><p>Last of Copley’s probables was a legend and a myth. Nothing but a story about a goddess, a warrior that striked down her enemies fearlessly, the ultimate soldier and a lover who accompanied chieftains all throughout history. The name <em> Andromache </em> earned a prominent spot on Copley’s evidence board, and he soon crowded it with articles, greek legends, historical theories and studies of nomadic fighters. He never had a face aside from ancient illustrations that were inconclusive at best, and he found the trail of Andromache going cold when he crossed from BC to AC. Still, he had a feeling that with everything he’d seen so far, she had to be more than a legend. A woman who never died - a famed fighter. She had to be somewhere in there, he told himself as he buried back into his books.</p><p>Three pictures, that’s all he found: one from Operation Babylift at an US airport in 1975, another from the Velvet Revolution in Czechoslovakia in 1989, and the last one from the March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom in 1963. That’s all he had, three blurry photos that only <em> could </em> be showing the same woman. The years were relatively close together as well, not as blatant as his previous clues. But it was all for nothing when he couldn’t find her in any database; no ID, no driving license, no arrest record. If the woman was alive, she was a ghost.</p><p>In a fit of despair, Copley turned to rumours, gossip and scary stories, searching for a woman who couldn’t die, and one who, probably, fought to this day. It was a pattern he noticed with all of them - when something was happening in the world, they were there; helping, contributing to the world still turning. </p><p>He found her in Moscow, where recently surfaced stories of a local bulletproof superhero that guarded the city’s streets at night. Only he could be crazy enough to follow a lead like that, Copley thought to himself.</p><p>With a bit more digging, he found a camera footage that became viral on Russians socials just a few weeks back and showed a lone figure fighting a group of robbers, after they attacked a family’s home. The figure got shot at three times and didn’t as much as stumble. The authorities dismissed the footage and deemed it fake and that was the end of it. But not for Copley. Faceless superhero was all he had and yet, he found himself getting off a plane on the Sheremetyevo airport in Moscow. Hitting up some of his old contacts, Copley found his faceless heroine, squatting in a broken down apartment complex on the outskirts of the city, accompanied by just rats and junkies. He observed from afar for two weeks straight, but she didn’t as much as move. The shell of a woman that he saw in his binoculars spent her days getting high and getting drunk and smoking so much he wondered whether her lungs worked as an ashtray. Still, her skin wasn’t turning grey nor was she coughing with sickness in spite of the cold temperatures. It was as if her situation was irrelevant to her physical form, stuck on a different plane of existence from regular mortals.</p><p>It was definitely not what Copley hoped for and it was definitely not enough to convince anybody she was <em> the Andromache </em> he was looking for. Still, Copley wrote her down as probable. She displayed the self-destructive behaviour well enough.</p><p> </p><p>It took a few weeks before Copley put all of his research together. When he was walking into Merrick’s office in London, with four files titled with names of supposed immortals, he felt proud. It was as if he was a fly on the wall in a room where all of history was taking place, and he observed how people came and went and came and went, taking turns at the history’s helm. And it was him who noticed that four figures kept lagging behind, hiding in the corners and shadowy nooks to not be found by the rest, while they kept a watchful eye over the helm and who turned it.</p><p>Merrick was ecstatic and upon his request, Copley came up with a plan on obtaining definitive proof. The four were to be invited to Merrick’s estate in Scotland, where the environment could be controlled, said Merrick, and they could be closely observed and Copley’s theories safely proven, away from any unwanted eyes.</p><p>“One more thing, Copley.”</p><p>“Yes, Mr. Merrick?”</p><p>“I want Mr. Freeman to take part in this experiment.”</p><p>“Pardon?”</p><p>“You heard me.”</p><p>“But, you already know she’s immortal, sir,” said Copley with a confused smile.</p><p>“Precisely. She’ll be our ‘inside man’,” said Merrick and imitated quotation marks with his hands, grinning from ear to ear, “Is that what you agents say?”</p><p>“Sir, with all due respect, she’s just a child. It needs training and-”</p><p>“You’ll get her ready.”</p><p>“How am I supposed to-”</p><p>“Use your CIA magic, James. I don’t care. I want Nile inside. In case you are right and some of them are not cooperative,” he pushed Booker’s file out of the pile and eyed his picture, “She’ll be the one to handle them. She can’t get hurt, after all.”</p><p> </p><p>That wasn’t entirely true, and Copley realized so in the moment he actually met Nile face to face. Her expression was glazed over at all times and Copley felt like he was watching her through a glass, looking at eyes that were too young to be this tired and pained. Something inside of him held Nile in high respect and something inside of him feared for her like a parent would. He’d seen what he thought were the lives of immortals - and they were filled with conflicts and blood and pain and trauma. Copley wondered whether Nile would be the same as them, he wondered whether she was ready to accept eternal life. She was so young. He hated himself for going through with Merrick’s plan, but he believed in it so strongly himself, he no longer had the will to stop. </p><p>Her body was restrained in a reclining chair in spite of her body language telling Copley of exhaustion and lack of resolve to actually struggle against them.</p><p>“Miss Freeman, I’m James Copley. Nice to meet you.”</p><p>She couldn’t shake his hand even if she wanted to, but the lack of spark in her eyes told him she didn’t.</p><p>“I came here with a proposition.”</p><p>“Unless it’s to get out of here, I don’t want to hear it,” she pushed through her teeth, looking away.</p><p>“Actually, it is,” he lied, as he knew how to very well. He gave her a smile once she met his eyes, interested in what he had to say. “I’ve heard you’re interested in art history, is that correct?”</p><p>She blinked to hide the surprise that knit her eyebrows together. “What?”</p><p>“Art history. Your mother got you into it, you used to watch Antiques Roadshow a lot, right?” </p><p>“How do you know that?”</p><p>“It’s a bit of a talent of mine,” he said with a smile and threw his arms about as if to present himself. She eyed him from head to toe and her lips pressed into a tight line. “I know that you wanted to apply to a college after school but your family’s financial situation didn’t allow for it, so you went to the military. Top of your class in bootcamp, too.”</p><p>“What do you know about my family?” asked Nile and the fear in her voice betrayed her harsh tone.</p><p>“Enough, Miss Freeman.” She leaned back into the chair and Copley knew she wanted to hide. “Enough to know that last year your mother had to look for a second when the rent went up. And enough to know that you’ve been sending her half of your pay.” Nile’s eyes darted all around the room and Copley noticed the vigor that poured into her veins as she gripped her hands into fists. He looked back into her eyes. “Just to be clear, this is not a threat, Miss Freeman.”</p><p>“Sure as hell sounds like it,” she hissed back.</p><p>“This is an opportunity,” he said silently and approached her. “Full-ride scholarship to the University of Chicago and a monthly stipend to cover all of yours and your family’s costs.”</p><p>Now her expression changed as if he flicked a switch, she beamed with want and hope and he already felt her hovering over the hook of his words. “Mr. Merrick proposes a very generous deal to you, Miss Freeman. If you agree to this, you’ll be free. You’ll go back to your family.” It would be hard not to notice how the pupils of her eyes widened, and just like that, he had her. All it took was a lie.</p><p>“We need your help acquiring a group of people that suffer from the same condition as you. We have reasons to believe these individuals may be dangerous to people around them. If they won’t cooperate, we may need to pacify them. That’s why we need you, Nile. We need someone strong.”</p><p>Somehow the mention of other people like her missed her ears completely, as if she held the conversation in her cupped hands like an ounce of water and the unimportant bits seeped through her fingers and dripped onto the floor. All that was left was all she ever wanted; her mother and brother living comfortably, her family well taken care of while she could pursue her dream; she could finally make her mother proud. She could fix it all. She wouldn’t be this broken, tired Nile that cried every night in fear of never-ending pain, she would lit the torch within her once more and stand up and be <em> strong </em> again. And most of all, she would finally get out of this lab and be free. </p><p>In the back of her mind, Nile wondered if it was so tempting to agree because she already judged herself undeserving of a world like that; a world where she would be free and happy. It felt so distant - as if no matter what she did, she would never reach it. The nights in the lab were cold and the days full of pain and she didn’t remember for how long she had been in there. Maybe this was what she was waiting for; this was what she was supposed to do. It felt so easy to find purpose in being told what to do, and Nile recognized the feeling from back when she joined the Marines. Now, it could be her place to do what others would pay for with their life. She would no longer be a monster tied to a chair, a freak whose limbs grow back and wounds seal on themselves, this is what could bring her purpose back. She could be someone useful, once again.</p><p>Nile swallowed the nothing in her throat. “What would I have to do?”</p><p> </p><p>Copley prepared her well, so well, that he believed her himself when she introduced herself to him for the second time, once she walked into the door of the mansion. He told her as little of the others as possible, to keep her alert and wary, and to make it easier for her to play a stranger. Nile was a talented actress, interacting with the others naturally, seamlessly. Her task was to hang back, act as one of the guests and if possible, but never forcefully, find out any incriminating information. She played her part more than well. Or maybe not. Maybe somewhere along the lines, she forgot that she was supposed to act.</p><p>“Booker is the target,” told her Copley on the afternoon of the party, standing in her room and handing her a jet injector. “Knock him out and then you’ll join Keane’s team. Beta comes for the rest at midnight.”</p><p>When he looked up from his watch, he saw Nile still sitting on her bed, looking at him with wide, alert eyes like a lost puppy. He tipped the injector towards her again and she took it, rolling it around in her hands.</p><p>“Nile,” he said again, catching her attention. “Are you alright?”</p><p>“I am,” she mumbled, hiding the injector into her jacket, “Just nervous, I guess.” She stood up and went to wash her face.</p><p>“Nervous is okay. Don’t worry, it’ll all be over soon.” He granted her a small smile and then patted her back as he left the room. </p><p>What he didn’t see was Nile staring at her reflection and not recognizing herself. What he didn’t see was Nile walking in her room in circles, tossing the others’ names around in her head, trying to find sense in them, trying to find the one that would sound dangerous to her. None of them did. The professor she admired long before she found out he was supposed to be immortal; the doctor that showed nothing but kindness and compassion; the woman that looked through her and read her like a book, and Booker. Goddamn Booker. He was a broken man, a lost soul, like Joe had said, and he was dangerous - he was a criminal for christ’s sake. He should be the easiest one, he should be the one where she shouldn’t hesitate. Then why was she? </p><p>It didn’t make sense to feel compassion for them, did it? They seemed so normal, they seemed kind, if a bit distant. But she knew they would be like that, didn’t she? Copley prepared her for them - they were just hiding their true identities. Well, not all of them, Booker was pretty vocal about being a piece of shit. But that was just it with him - he didn’t fit the narrative and Nile didn’t believe him a single word. She pitied him at first; his sad eyes going hand in hand with a sad smile and even sadder decisions. But something about him felt <em> warm </em>, something about him felt too honest in his pain. </p><p>Nile growled, punching her hand into the wall and ignoring the pain. The scrapes on her knuckles disappeared as quickly as they’d rendered on her skin and she brushed her fingers over where they used to be, smudging away the tiny beads of blood. This is who she was now: a body without scars and scabs, a still entity in the ever-moving whirl of danger and death. She would never have her brother draw smiley faces on a cast, like he did when she broke her arm in the second grade, she would never get mad at a blemish that she scratched, spoiling her face for days before it healed. She was someone else now, she felt it. Was it the longing for familiarity, for the friends that left her behind, that she felt only drawn to the others? Those people in the house were like her, supposedly. Someone else who <em> understood </em> what others never possibly could.</p><p>It had to be just her mind playing tricks on her. No, she had a mission here, she scolded herself and dismissed the thought. She had to focus.</p><p> </p><p>It was when he finally agreed to sleep, when he rolled over on his side with his back to her that Nile knew she should be reaching for the sedative. It’s not like it would kill him, she told herself. <em> It’s not like he would die. He would just sleep. And then suffer in pain when they carve him up. </em></p><p>On a momentary whim, Nile dismissed the thought of doing that to Booker completely. She wasn’t sure if she decided so because she didn’t want him to go through what she did, or because she couldn’t live with herself if it was <em> her </em> who sentenced him to such fate. Instead, all of her carefully put up walls broke at once and the anxiety, fear and anticipation that had built up came flooding her all at once. She cried and sobbed and she knew she was shaking with it but she didn’t know how to stop. <em> This isn’t like me. This isn’t what a soldier does. Get together. Get together, Nile. Stop whining. </em> But she didn’t. Not until Booker held her and she heard those words: You’re not a monster, Nile. <em> I’m not a monster.  </em></p><p>Kissing him was all she could feel at the moment. It was all she wanted to do; feel and be felt and make her heart beat from anything else than pain and adrenaline. She saw his blue eyes and messed up blonde hair and he looked so human, so normal, so unlike anyone she’d met ever since she died on that dirty floor in Iraq. In that moment, he radiated comfort and warmth and Nile wanted to curl up into his arms and sleep.</p><p>It was only when he pulled away and ran outside that she realized what she’d done. A tingly feeling of regretful shame and embarrassment crawled up her back, engulfing her completely for what felt like hours when she just stared into the wall. Then she stood up on shaky legs and left the house in a hurry, joining Keane’s team. When she climbed into the van and saw Nicky and Joe, lying motionlessly on the steel floor, she felt sick to her stomach.</p><p>“Where’s the Frenchman?” asked Keane and Nile grimaced at the sight of his slashed up face.</p><p>“I couldn’t do it. I chickened out,” she blurted out and made sure to look away and not meet Keane’s scolding gaze. Copley looked at her from the passenger’s seat, eyebrows knitted together in worry.</p><p>Keane only spit out some more blood that landed on Joe’s jacket. “Fuck. Beta will be here soon. They’ll take care of him. Let’s go!”</p><p> </p><p>“What happened?” asked Merrick once he barged into Nile’s room in the bunker. “We have the doctor and we have the professor but we don’t have the Frenchman. Why?” She opened her mouth to speak but words couldn’t find their way to her tongue. When the silence grew too long for him, he stomped over to Nile and lifted his index finger up to her eye. “Tell me! What happened? Why didn’t you bring me your target?”</p><p>“Sir, I-” she started stuttering, “I panicked. I couldn’t do it.”</p><p>His features softened all of a sudden and he took a step back, curling his finger back into his palm. Nodding his head, he repeated her words: “You panicked. You couldn’t do it.” He walked back to his table and took a deep breath, leaning against the desk with his back to them. “Miss Freeman, I am not sure you realize just how important this operation is. Thanks to your ‘panicking’, the Frenchman and the woman got out of control and massacred the entire beta team.”</p><p>Nile sucked in a breath, staring at Merrick like a doe caught in headlights. <em> No. That’s not possible. </em>Somehow, no matter how impossible she deemed it to be, her world crumbled yet again.</p><p>“I hope you realize that I can hold you responsible for the death of my men. They had families - just like you do. And they won’t ever see them again. Because of you,” he sizzled slowly, eyeing her face with contempt. Nile shuddered and held back tears as she sunk into herself, shoulders slouched. It seemed like she should say something; explain, defend herself or apologize, but Merrick’s crazed gaze held her in a trans where it wasn’t her place to speak. “But I will give you a chance to redeem yourself,” he whispered as he leaned in, standing on his tiptoes. “You will never disrespect my orders again, Miss Freeman. And I may still be generous enough to forget your mishap and grant you your freedom. Even the money for your family.”</p><p>Nile closed her eyes tight and her breath quickened as she fought the panic attack in her head. Merrick leaned back, observing her shaking form. He waited until she controlled her breath enough to close her lips into a tight line. “You’ll protect me from those freaks, Nile.” <em> Freaks. Monsters. Murderers. </em> “No matter what. Obey my orders from now on and everything will be fine, yes?”</p><p>Her eyes opened, a raging flame glinting in her pupils. “Yes, sir.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This chapter was such a delight to write. Any comment is greatly appreciated, I'd love to hear your thoughts about this little flashback.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chances</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Clear steel ripped through the air and bounced the bullet off. Nile’s arm twitched away, disarmed within a second as Andy cut through the barrel off her gun and casted the useless weapon aside.</p><p>Then time slowed and they just breathed. Andy held Nile in a hurtful, scolding gaze with her axe up and ready for a swing. Nile stood in front of her like a victim, an innocent, out of the place entity that was never supposed to face the blades Andy was holding, flushed with anger and tears. The space between them was thick, molding around them like jelly that covered their bodies and hardened on the surface, keeping them from making a move.<br/>“How unsure are you, Booker?” asked Andy. Nile’s wide eyes shot towards him on the ground, timing his breaths as he tested his leg and pulled up to his knee. </p><p>He growled with pain as he stood back up. “Don’t hurt her.”</p><p>It was as if he spit into her face and laughed. Nile screamed as she kicked Andy in the gut, sending her into a stumble.</p><p> </p><p>Stumbling over himself, Merrick sprinted down the hallway, stretching his neck to look behind him for any sign of pursuers at every corner. The sweat that glued his hair together trickled down his face in lines and he hastily wiped it off, wincing at the pain in his injured hand. Once he entered the exit hallway, a hand grasped him and he yelped.</p><p>“It’s me, sir! It’s me!” </p><p>“Keane! For fuck’s sake! Get me out of here!”</p><p>Bleeding and battered, Keane only nodded and cocked his gun to carry out his orders. “We’ll take the tunnels, sir. They’re in the main lab.” Going first, he led Merrick through the maze of corridors with his gun raised. “Where are they? What happened?”</p><p>“They shot my hand! Hurts like a bitch. But our last line of defense worked. She’s stalling them.” In spite of the helpless situation, Merrick smiled - almost proudly.</p><p>Once he rushed Merrick inside the lab, Keane turned to the heavy door and turned the lever to secure it shut.</p><p>“Sir.” Her voice startled Merrick and he cowered when he faced her, the doctor. Still wearing her lab coat, she stood in the middle of the lab with calm, collected eyes hidden behind smudged glasses. Unlike his trembling self, she was eerily calm.</p><p>“Doctor. Did they hurt you?”</p><p>“No,” she uttered, eyeing Keane. “What about the others? Any of our men left?”</p><p>He only shook his head. The doctor hung her head low, recoiling from Merrick walking past her towards the already opened hatch leading to the tunnels. </p><p>“Get in, doctor Kozak. We’re leaving. We don’t have much time,” ordered Keane and waited until they both disappeared inside before lowering himself down the ladder and shutting the hatch.</p><p> </p><p>Having made space between her and Andy, Nile fell to her knee and, shoving Joe’s arm away, pulled up his gun and crouched next to his body to take a shot.</p><p>Booker rushed up to her. “Nile!”</p><p>She pressed the trigger and he received two in the chest, his body hitting the wall next to him.</p><p>“I’ll just leave a scratch,” muttered Andy as she walked past him, her axe loosened into a swing, twisting into a spin to strike.</p><p>“No!” He grabbed her shoulders, turning her around so Nile’s bullets riddled his back once more.</p><p>The shots stopped as Joe gasped into life, grasping onto her wrist like death itself. </p><p>“Nile,” he coughed out.</p><p>She screamed and shook him off, crawling backwards while he turned on his stomach and searched the floor for Nicky. He found him twitching up with a new breath and their hands met, holding onto each other like a lifeline as they eased into another life.</p><p>She cursed herself for not looking away, for not taking another shot, because the moment Joe’s warm, kind eyes, that didn’t carry a single sign of anger or hatred, offering nothing but forgiveness and understanding, met hers, she was broken. She cried out and her cheeks split into streams of tears.</p><p>He was supposed to be a professor. A goddamn art history professor that she was supposed to finally meet after admiring his work. Maybe she’d work on her thesis with him. A glimpse of her dreamy life, a normal life, laid on the floor in a pool of blood that she’d caused. She shuttered with another cry as she stood up, watching them all collect themselves.</p><p>Booker let go of Andy and took hold of his own weapon, watching over Nicky and Joe standing up. It the eyes she saw in them; the tentative look Joe gave Nicky as he helped him stand; the caring, patient eyes from Nicky when he scanned her crying; Andy’s sadness materialized in the tears in her eyes and Booker - fucking Booker who refused to hurt her even after she’d hurt him and everybody else. She had nothing to lose now, she thought. She became the monster he didn’t see in her just hours before. </p><p>“Don’t shoot,” he said again. It angered her above any measure to watch him being this strong, this stubborn.</p><p>“We won’t,” said Joe.</p><p>They stood facing her and one by one they dropped their weapons. Andy laid her labrys down and kicked it behind her, the steel ringing on the floor until it slid to a stop. They were unarmed and waiting for Nile to make a move.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” she pushed through her teeth, swallowing tear after tear. She crouched back into shooting position, expecting them to scatter or take cover, at the very least. They did neither and stood perfectly still.</p><p>“It won’t work, Nile,” said Nicky with so much patience it sounded like he was schooling a child. She shook her gun in anger.</p><p>“Yeah but it’ll hurt, won’t it?” She grinded her teeth, making sure she didn’t aim for their heads so she couldn’t see those eyes in her sights. “It always hurts.” </p><p>“Nile,” spoke up Booker. They noticed the winces of her shoulders and Andy stepped away, giving him space. “Nile, listen to me. You don’t have to do this.”</p><p>“Yes I do! You don’t know shit about what I gotta do! Shut up!”</p><p>Ignoring her threats, he started making small, confident steps towards her. His shoulders relaxed, his face covered in a pale sheet of sadness and compassion. <em> How dare he show compassion? </em></p><p>She pressed the trigger and the bullet riddled Booker’s knee. He fell to the ground with a grunt and the impact seemed to shook through Nile as well. She squinted her eyes shut. </p><p>“It’s okay,” he whispered, breathing heavily while his knee-cap composed itself back together. With little struggle, he stood back up and kept walking up to her. “Nile. Please, just put the gun away and let me-”</p><p>“Get away from me, Booker!”</p><p>He didn’t and Nile’s answer was to punch him across the face with the butt of her gun. Joe ran up to her, pushing her barrel down and side-stepping her body to grab her arm and tug it behind her. She threw her head back and knocked Joe away. Swinging back forward, she kicked Nicky, who grabbed her gun. Dodging his body, Andy sent Nile’s head flying to a side with a heavy punch. </p><p>Then she stilled and watched Nile slowly turn back to face her, enhanced with a split lip and a smear of blood trailing off the corner of her mouth. Her lip healed within a second. When she launched at Andy in retaliation, the older woman grinned. Slapping her right hook down, Andy shoved her forward into a wall. She landed with a grunt and leaned back as she got grabbed by her hair. Stepping behind Andy in a swift move, Nile kneed the underside of her knee and pulled her down with an elbow into Andy’s midsection. They fell backwards and both of them rolled over to land back on their feet. Clashing back together, every punch Nile threw Andy blocked, until Nile screamed a battle cry, headbutting Andy into a tumble. When she spit out blood, she looked at Nile with a stupid amount of pride. Dodging a swing, Andy tucked herself under Nile’s side and punched her ribs over and over, pushing her into a wall. With the wind knocked out of her, Nile scrambled to elbow Andy’s back and shoulders until she landed a hit on her neck and pushed her off. Another came Nicky folding her into an arm lock behind her back, keeping clear of her head, so she pulled her arm tight to her chest and rushed forward, stretching him enough to twist around and shove him off with a kick. Joe was at her at the same moment, dodging her punch by twisting around her and swinging an arm around her neck, then he tugged her sideways while Nicky grabbed her leg and spinned as he threw himself on the ground. They slammed Nile down, Nicky holding her legs down while Joe hugged her head with an iron grip precise enough to keep her in place but not choke her out. She writhed around and punched him in the face with a desperate growl, but his grip didn’t falter.</p><p>“Jesus,” he muttered once he was sure she wasn’t getting free, scrunching up his nose to get through the numb pain, “You’ve got a mean punch, Nile.”</p><p>He turned her over and kept her pressed to the ground, plastered himself against her back. Nicky positioned himself to straddle her knees instead of lying down on her, easing up his grip so it wasn’t painful but kept her in place. Even now, his caring eyes wandered over her form for any injuries, for a concussion they might have caused, for a cut that was too deep.  She was completely fine, only fuming, thrashing around in their grip. Andy and Booker approached her, with Andy smiling from ear to ear and sampling the blood in her mouth with a finger. She was one of them. They were sure now. </p><p>Trading their awe in brief, happy looks, all of them turned to the girl. She was breathing heavily, staring into the pores of the concrete floor with her pupils shrunk into a pin. The air vibrated with anticipation, with the possibilities of the moment. It was as if they were stranded in the middle of a frozen lake and the ice was too thin in some places, the surface trembling with the slightest of pressure, and it was up to the direction they were gonna take whether they sank into the waters or crossed over safely. Nile squeezed her eyes shut as she stopped struggling against her captors, biting down on her lip until it bled.</p><p>Joe traded looks with Nicky but a faint shake from Andy led them to keep their hold. She stepped aside to allow Booker to crouch down next to Nile, who kept her eyes closed, even when she heard how he shifted until he laid down next to her so they were levelled. For a moment, he just watched her face; the soft lines trailed by her tears and the wrinkles around her tightly shut lids. He sighed and looked into the ceiling. </p><p>“Nile.” The lump in his throat that he tried to swallow was immediately replaced by an even bigger one. His neck compressed around his voice and so he licked his lips, wanting to coax his tongue out of the grip, trick it into forming words. “To be honest, I don’t know what you’re going through right now. But I think you’re new to this, and when I remember how I got into this shitty mess and how lost and fucked up I was, I know you don’t have it easy.” She made sure to keep her eyes closed, forcing them down with all her strength, denying herself the eye contact. Joe looked down as he felt her arms tremble with how hard she was gripping her fists. He started rubbing circles into her shoulders with his thumbs. Nicky did the same with her legs.</p><p>When Booker spoke again, the others listened just as intently as Nile. “Nile, I did a lot of shit I’m not proud of. And I did them even when I knew they were bad. I wanted to feel bad, I thought that was all I was good for. I wanted to punish myself. I still do. So trust me, when I say that I recognize the anger in you. It was my only friend for a long time.” She let her eyelids slide open, stilling with the sight of him lying there. His lips were pink as they spoke, his cheeks flushed and his eyes red with unshed tears. “But I ran into someone who told me that everyone deserves a second chance. And I told her that I think that’s bullshit, because I’ve had my chances and I’ve blown all of them. But, that’s the reality we live in, Nile. We keep living in it, no matter what. We have chances that we take, over and over. And even if you fuck up, there will be a next one. I realize now that <em> that </em> is the upside of this mess. We keep having chances. Even if you fuck it up.”</p><p>He let his head fall to a side so their eyes met. She looked the same. Her lips were swollen and her eyes wide with fear. He smiled his sad little smile.</p><p>“Maybe this one you won’t.”</p><p>She parted her lips with a ragged breath, wishing to look away but not going through with it. With a sob, she started crying, baring her teeth and scrunching up her cheeks as she cried into the floor. Immediately, Nicky stood up and Joe lifted her up, turning her around in his arms. She curled up into a ball, forehead pressed into his shoulder as she sobbed. Joe hugged her, caressing her back.</p><p>Booker stayed on the ground, watching her crawl into the arms of a friend, not an enemy. His smile grew wider and he let out a heavy sigh, combing through his hair with his fingers before finally standing up. It was Andy’s touch that made Nile finally calm enough to look up. She stroked her neck and took hold of her head when their eyes met. The smile that appeared on Andy’s face spoke nothing of contempt or hatred, she looked over the moon happy and brought her foreheads together.</p><p>This couldn’t be, thought Nile. This had to be a dream, a fabrication. She did so much to these people, she hurt them like she never hurt anyone before. All they knew about her could have been a lie and still, they embraced her without second thoughts. </p><p>“I killed you,” she breathed out. “I killed you.”</p><p>“No you didn’t,” said Andy.</p><p>Nicky’s eyes found Joe’s and he smiled at him. “We’re here, Nile.”</p><p>Andy closed her eyes to sink into the feeling of her, her head under her touch, her breath on her skin, the presence of Nicky and Joe at her side, Booker hovering right behind her. These people were there with her; in this damn place, in this situation, in this <em> life of eternity. </em> For the first time in her forever, she wasn’t alone but instead surrounded by friends. </p><p>“We’re in this together now,” she said silently, looking into Nile’s teary eyes. She gave her the gentlest smile. “No matter what happens. I’ll be there for you, Nile. You’re not alone.” She stood up and looked at the others. They knew, they didn’t need any more words to understand. Nicky stumbled into the wall behind him and slid down to the floor, smiling while crying happy tears and trying to wipe them away. Joe laughed an honest, happy laugh that shook with Nile. He embraced her and kissed her forehead, cradling her like a baby. She grabbed him with weak arms, hugging him back. Sharing a look of hope with Andy, Booker barked out a laugh. They were a family. And no matter what the world would throw at them, they’d face it together. </p><p>Immortality started to sound less like a misery.</p><p> </p><p>When they finally walked towards the exit, Nile was calm. They didn’t rush her, taking their time hugging each other and letting the realization settle in before moving. The only time she tensed up was when Booker touched the small of her back while leading her around a corner. She still didn’t face him, choosing to look away instead. He immediately let go of her. They kept their guns while they walked the corridors, looking out for any of Merrick’s guards left.</p><p>It was when they entered the tunnel, the brightness of dawn already peeking in through the gate, that they heard movement and all their guns snapped towards a figure hiding behind the crates.</p><p>“Don’t shoot, please.”</p><p>Joe growled, the finger on his trigger twitched when he saw the whites of Copley’s eyes. The man was barely standing, covered head to toe in dust and bleeding heavily from a cut in his stomach, just an inch shy of his bulletproof vest. It was Nicky’s hand on Joe’s shoulder that made him lower the weapon. Without another word, Nicky put away his gun and came up to Copley. The others lowered their guns and Joe watched the two with worry while chewing on the inside of his cheek.</p><p>Copley got locked into a stare-off with a pair of pale, blue eyes that had seen a millenia. He didn’t stand a chance and looked away in shame, holding his gut and struggling to take his shallow breaths.</p><p>Instead of punishment, Nicky granted him mercy as he shifted his focus to his wound.</p><p>“The shrapnel is still in,” he noted as a matter-of-fact, his face a perfect blank slate. With gentle hands, he led him to lie down and Booker hovered above them with a flashlight. “I need to get it out. Anyone’s got a knife? I’ll need bandages and a sewing kit.”</p><p>“The van had a first aid kit,” breathed Booker.</p><p>“I’ll get it. Nile, come with me.”</p><p>Andy and Nile took off, rushing like a life depended on it, it just wasn’t theirs. Copley grit his teeth, watching the floor like his life depended on it. He was bleeding fast and Nicky pressed on the wound in an attempt to slow it, causing Copley to clench his teeth until they could snap. In his mind, Copley remembered how he twisted the knife in Nicky’s gut, and accepting the pain as his revenge somehow made it feel better. When the pain reached its peak and Copley felt like it couldn’t get worse, he screamed and tried to sit up.</p><p>“Don’t,” started Nicky.</p><p>“You don’t have to help me.” Every word he said, he visibly pushed out with force. His face was paler and paler every passing second, eyes glazing over with fog. “I betrayed you. I killed you, Nicky.”</p><p>The grip of his blood-soaked hands didn’t falter. “Won’t you feel stupid once I save you.”</p><p>Copley stared up at him like he was an angel, like the soldier he’d saved described him as. Finally, he understood; Nicky looked holy, maybe he was God himself, deciding who was to die and who was to live. In that moment, Copley was jealous of his kindness and felt a surge of admiration that made his heart pump harder, bleeding more. What did he do with his life, when he had only one? He decided to hurt those who had many. How someone who experienced the horrors of humanity still insisted on saving it, was beyond Copley.</p><p>Behind Nicky, with his mouth twisted into a small smile, Joe decided he loved the man in front of him. Loved him for everything he couldn’t be himself in that moment. Casting his gun aside, he kneeled next to him.</p><p>“How can I help?”</p><p>“Hold the wound. Keep it under pressure.”</p><p>Letting Joe take over, Nicky stood up to take the first aid kit from Nile who just got back, burrowing into its contents and taking the things he needed.</p><p>Watching Copley lying there, overflowing with guilt, with the regrets one got on the brink of his life, Nile pitied and understood him completely at the same time. </p><p>“It’s gonna hurt. Bite into this.” Nicky took off his belt and folded it in between Copley’s teeth, baring a scissors blade in the flashlight’s light. Copley obeyed and sank his teeth into the leather. It muffled the groans that slithered from the bottom of his throat once Joe took his hand away and Nicky dug the blade into the wound, scraping meat and muscle to take out pieces of lead and steel. None of the sounds Copley made caused him to as much as wince, his hands perfectly still and confident. Once the deep cut was free of shrapnels and cleaned, Nicky sewed Copley up and dressed the wound. </p><p>Nobody said a word about the decision Nicky had made and instead did everything in their power to help him and followed his lead and orders during the hasty operation. When the patient was stable enough, Nicky and Joe loaded him into the van that Andy parked in front of the tunnel. Everybody started to board.</p><p>Once he saw him, Nicky sank to his knees in front of Zeus, smiling with his shoulders shaking as he hugged the animal as close as he could. Zeus in return licked his face clean off any blood, making his hair stick up. </p><p>“I told him you’re coming back,” whispered Andy, standing by his side.</p><p>He gave her the brightest smile that she felt like was something rare for Nicky, and her chest welled up with honour. Zeus barked, confirming her story. The dog circled everyone and made sure they were all inside before he jumped into the back and settled himself under the bench.</p><p>Booker put the van into first gear and drove, leaving behind the shore and the bunker. Everybody sank into themselves, slipping into a trans where they just existed, soaking in the thick, comfy atmosphere of mutual silence.</p><p>“Where are we going?” asked Booker, voicing out loud the question that sat on everyone’s mind.</p><p>“Just away,” sighed out Joe. His head hit the wall of the van as he leaned back.</p><p>Nicky eyed down his patient with a scorn. “Copley needs fluids, he lost a lot of blood. We need to bring him to a hospital.” </p><p>“No!” It was Copley who screamed, lifting himself up on his elbows. “You can’t draw any more attention to yourselves.” Like a doctor would, Nicky crouched down to him and eased him back down so he didn’t rip any stitches. </p><p>They all traded a knowing look before individually settling on Andy, who at first only stared at Copley, a curious, hitched eyebrow gracing her face. “He’s right. We can’t risk that. Merrick’s people could be looking for us.”</p><p>“Drop me off in the first town you see. I’ll take care of myself. I got people in Edinburgh, I’ll be fine. They’ll get me.”</p><p>With a visible distaste, Nicky agreed to the deal and checked him one more time before settling back in his seat next to Joe. </p><p>“What then?” asked Nile shyly, linking and unlinking her clammy hands. “Where do we go? What do we do?”</p><p>A chuckle rang out from behind the wheel. “Wherever we want. We’re free. It’s over.”</p><p>“It’s not over.” Booker looked over at Andy who was talking through the palms on her face. “Merrick knows who we are. He tracked us once to get us here, he’ll just do it again. He knows who we are.”</p><p>“So we find him and cut the loose end,” said Joe.</p><p>“Yeah,” she answered. For a moment there she slipped and sunk into her unconsciousness, into the big mystery that led her to this forsaken country in the first place; Quynh. It was her name that Copley gave Andy when pursuing her to come to Merrick. He told her nothing less and nothing more, just her name. It was enough. She cursed herself now for taking the bait, like a hungry dog chasing after a poisoned morsel. Merrick had to know something and if not for the reason of stopping his obsession with their immortality, Andy needed to find him and know everything he had on Quynh. Especially now that she was surrounded with a newfound <em> family </em>. She wanted it whole.</p><p>“What’s your plan?” asked Copley, searching their frowning faces. They all glared at him in a way that spoke partly of distrust and partly of confusion and he did the math. “You don’t have one.”</p><p>“We need a place to stay,” mumbled Booker. “The mansion’s a bonfire.”</p><p>Startled, Nicky and Joe found each other’s eyes. With quick questions finding their answers inside his head, Joe looked back towards Booker and Andy. “That’s us dead, then.”</p><p>Nicky sighed and his head bumped against the wall as he leaned back. The space among them started to fill up with thick air, thumping with pain at the loss of their lives; established and fought for for years only to be lost in flames within a few hours. Booker glanced at the rings on his hand and took it off the wheel to clench it into a fist, shaking off the imaginary punches he’d thrown as the prince of crime and drugs. Even Nile sunk into herself, staring at a bolt welded into the van’s floor, trying to find sense of her life in the rivets that circled it.</p><p>Copley held his breath to not let out a grunt, observing the small twitch of Joe’s lips that formed a brief, naive smile, the creases that formed around Nicky’s eyes when he squeezed his eyes shut, the nervous shake of his foot against the floor, the way Nile’s fingers sunk into her hair. He stared in amazement at the sight. It was like watching a snake shed its skin, that it desperately wanted to keep, holding onto it until the last moment, and then never looking back as it slithers away, already sporting a new one. There was nothing cunning or cold about it; all Copley could see was grieve and loss and bitter acceptance, flashing fast through their small movements and the rhythm of their breaths. It was all too human.</p><p>First to speak was Nicky, sliding his broad palm down his face and ruffling his hair before he straightened back up. “We have to spend the night somewhere. Collect ourselves. I don’t have any money.”</p><p>Andy sighed and her head bumped against the window, thinking. “None of us do.”</p><p>“I got a house in Belgium,” mused out loud Booker shyly.</p><p>“Malta,” said Nicky.</p><p>Joe chimed in as well with: “Morocco.”</p><p>In the passenger seat, Andy spared a small smile. She didn’t have any hideouts, just a few caves where she kept her spare belongings and souvenirs; she never thought of actually owning a home. It was unimaginable for her to have <em> friends </em>that offered shelter when it was needed.</p><p>“You have a place in all those countries?” asked Nile, a dumbfounded look on her face.</p><p>Joe gave her a small smile. “And Egypt. And a house in Maine in the US. A cottage in Switzerland.”</p><p>“I got two apartments in Italy,” smiled at her Nicky. She stared at them like they were Christmas Eve morning and let her shoulders slouch, Joe gave her a supportive pat on the back; beaming at her with a happy smile.</p><p>“I never even left the US aside from my tour, man.”</p><p>For the first time since the car started moving, Copley took a good look at Nile; at the ease in her posture, the way her eyes seemed to shine for the first time. He would have pinched himself if it didn’t hurt so much to move, to make sure he wasn’t dreaming when he saw the life returned into her features. She looked nothing like the girl he was sent to break and utilize - she looked strong, side by side with people who understood her, who accepted her and sat her next to them without any chains or restraints, with no painful tests or manipulative plans. It seeped into Copley like rain into dry clothes, it stuck to his skin and it overwhelmed him - the feeling of regret and the dawning of realization that he stood on the wrong side of history. History that would inevitably flow and drift away, taking him with it, while Nile and the others remained, steadfast and unbroken. And all he did was hurt them. He hurt Nile; the youngest one, the most fragile, a woman who just wanted to belong and live a normal life. He hurt people; people that hurt and felt and had hopes and wishes just like everybody else. Just like his wife did. In his obsessed search for a cure for death, he only caused more of it.</p><p>Booker sighed, his leg bouncing next to the pedals as he tried to comb through the thoughts on what to do. “Well, they’re useless right now anyway. We have no passports or IDs, no money. And Merrick is still here. In the UK.” He spotted a sign of the closest town, three miles away, and turned right at an intersection to follow it.</p><p>With a grunt, Copley held up a bloody piece of plastic in his hand. “Take my card.” They all looked his way, eyebrows knit together in surprise and curiosity. “Take out five thousand. That’s the limit. I’ll report it stolen at noon.”</p><p>“Why would you help us?” asked Joe and turned his sharp jaw up. </p><p>“Because I was wrong.” He wasn’t facing them and he knew it was cowardly of him. Mustering up his will, he let his eyes wander up to Nile only, hoping that his actions would ask for her forgiveness as well as the words he was too scared to say. “I was wrong in hurting you. I thought I could help everyone - that I could help Merrick find a cure to death. My wife had died and I just couldn’t accept the reality of it. I thought I could somehow fix all that pain if I… If I had you. I was wrong. That’s the gist of it. I was wrong. You had every right to leave me there or kill me. And you didn’t. Let me thank you. Take the money. That’s the least I can do for you.”</p><p>“James,” said Nile silently.</p><p>“No. I mean it. Take it. Use it to get whatever you need.”</p><p>Andy scanned him with a distant glare. “We’re going to find Merrick. And we’re going to kill him, Copley.”</p><p>“I know,” he breathed out and his chest rumbled with a sharp cough. Nicky soothed him with a hand over his lungs. With a bitter laugh, Copley rested his head back down and his eyes focused on the rose tinted shadows that crawled up the van’s roof. His mind wandered to his years in the CIA, to his younger self that thought he could change the world for the better; that he was someone who’d put a stop to evil and lock away all the bad men. It stung to see his younger self gaze back at him in disappointment. He let out a deep, content breath. “I wish I could be of more help.”</p><p>Nicky let go of him slowly. It wasn’t the first time he saw a man stripped of his ideals, betrayed by his own cause, and it came as natural as breathing to Nicky to find it within himself to understand; to respect the pain Copley must have gone through and the decisions he made along the way. Ultimately all his steps, no matter how wrong, led him here; hurt and at their mercy; and he chose to help. Nicky took the card and handed it to Nile, who stuffed it into her back pocket. “Do you know where Merrick is?” </p><p>“In London. The fall back plan was to get him back to London. 6 New St Square in Holborn. He’ll be heavily guarded.”</p><p>“We can deal with that,” mumbled Booker from behind the wheel.</p><p>Soon the tires came to a stop and Joe opened the back door, jumping out and helping Nicky carry out wounded Copley, who scrunched up his nose when the brisk morning sun hit his face and covered him in orange and pink hues of the dawn. The small square they were on was deserted; the early chilly air keeping the locals hidden safely inside their warm homes. They settled him on a bench next to the stone paved avenue that was still bathed in cold shadow. Copley took a moment to breathe through the pain stretching the skin on his stomach, then gave an affirming nod to Nicky who was cautiously watching him. For a brief moment, Joe’s eyes met Copley’s and the scepticism of his warm, blue eyes bled through into clarity, then clemency, and he patted Nicky on the back and ran back to the van. Before Nicky could do the same, Copley caught his hand.</p><p>“Left pocket,” he grunted out.</p><p>Following his barked order, Nicky reached into Copley’s left pocket and took out a blood stained pack of cigarettes. With a quick glance, he saw a lighter wedged in place of the only two cigarettes that were missing. He smirked.</p><p>Copley wheezed with a little difficulty. “I said. I don’t smoke.”</p><p>Nicky tipped the pack to him and with a lingering touch on his arm that slowly pulled away, he disappeared back into the back of the truck. The door closed and the truck drove down the road and disappeared in the last night's shadow. </p><p>Sighing, Copley leaned back against the bench, enjoying how the stiff, icey boards of the bench leaned into him back; injecting chills into his body, as deep as they could go until they reached his bones, and he watched the cloud of his hot breath melt into the surroundings and disappear. He closed his eyes and waited; thinking that maybe, if he stayed likes this and the cold took over him completely, he wouldn’t even be mad, and perhaps he’d even reach a bit of a poetic ending; but that thought dissolved as quickly as the puff of his hot breath when he heard first hurried steps and screams coming his way.</p><p> </p><p>Extra 50 quid under the counter earned them a room without IDs. The motel, situated in a village just outside of London, was worn down but quite nice for its age. Booker had correctly guessed it to be family-owned, based on the clues of very few cars in the parking lot and the lack of cameras installed, both of which were welcomed by all of them. They had ditched the van just outside the next city they encountered after they had dropped off Copley - an armored van was a bit too flashy for the road. The rest had been easier with money; after a long drive south in a new car, they were all looking forward to getting some rest. </p><p>The plan that they stitched together was to get close to London, get rest, and storm Merrick’s building before he could move elsewhere or find them first. It was a hasty plan miles away from something well thought-through, but it was the best their tired brains could manage, and it was enough in the moment.</p><p>Once Andy unlocked the door and everybody shuffled into a room that was obviously too small for five people, a communal relief filled the atmosphere - a weight was suddenly lifted off all shoulders present and any energy that they held onto started to slip away. Dropping a duffel bag filled with clothes, which Nile had bought in a supermarket on their way here because she was the only one presentable and without blood stains, Joe sacked onto the floor and leaned against a wall, relaxing into the support of it. There were only three beds but neither of them cared. One by one, they dropped somewhere in the room, letting the space between them fill with fat, soothing silence that they all welcomed with open arms.</p><p>“I’ll sleep on the floor,” offered Nicky and patted Zeus who curled up next to him.</p><p>Joe was quick to argue: “No way.”</p><p>“I can sleep in the chair,” said Andy and waved her hand vaguely to point at the piece of furniture currently seating her. </p><p>Booker didn’t find the strength in him to move at all. “I’m fine with the floor. Whatever. I feel like I’d fall asleep standing right now.”</p><p>He heard the buzz of tired chuckles and looked towards Nile to catch her in the act; a tired, weak smile playing on her lips. He felt his heart swell up.</p><p>“I’d kill for a shower,” she mumbled, massaging her sore neck. </p><p>“No need for that,” said Andy with a tired smile. “Go ahead. You can go first.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Jittering lights</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The sun was setting again by the time Joe got out of his shower as the last one, his curls wild and springy, messed up from the thin motel towel he used to dry himself. Dressed in a simple grey t-shirt with black pants, all he had left of his previous life were the boots he liked too much to part with - the store they stopped at didn’t carry shoes anyway and the boots had no blood stains or damage that could give Joe away, so he got to keep them. Looking down at the shiny black leather of the round toes, he studied the light stitching that circled the sole, remembering the day when he bought the shoes - with the help of Sofia, his colleague from university, after they had gone for a coffee. With a deep sigh, he shook his shoulders and stood up. That life was gone and so was she. He could never contact her again. Professor Joseph Jones died in a fire in the mansion.</p><p>When he opened the door of the small bathroom, he was met with a sight too gentle and serene to be true: Andy was dozing off in her chair, arms crossed and head leaning against a wall; Nile was asleep on the bed next to the window, tucked into the cheap covers up to her nose, her shoulders gently moving in a deep, slow pattern with her breathing, and Booker was lying on the floor between the beds with only a pillow stuffed under his head, completely asleep despite telling Joe just ten minutes ago that he wasn’t <em> that </em> tired. He couldn’t help but smile as he took a blanket and covered him. The only ones who weren’t in the room were Nicky and Zeus, but Joe wasn’t worried, noticing the silhouette of Nicky through the window curtains. Joe silently opened the door and slipped outside onto the narrow gallery that crawled around the building, connecting the rooms on the second floor. </p><p>He found him leaning against the railing and watching the street lights turn on in the parking lot. When he stepped closer, he saw that his gaze was bound further into the distance, watching the vast darkness of the night being decorated with countless little lights that crawled as far as an eye could see, as London lit up and the starry sky subsided to its light pollution. Between his index and middle finger Nicky held a lit cigarette that he periodically brought to his lips for long, slow drags. Joe leaned against the railing next to him, their elbows knocked together and he felt Zeus lean on his leg from sitting in between them. Nicky and Joe shared a silent look and then turned back towards London, watching its jittery lights dance on the horizon.</p><p>Joe leaned down to rub behind Zeus’s ears. “Are you okay?”</p><p>“I think I’m more than that,” said Nicky and nervously rubbed at his brow. When he caught Joe’s eyes again, he gave him a smile so honest he must have looked like a fool. His fingers started to tap on the cigarette filter and he started to bounce on the balls of his feet. “I can’t believe it, Joe.”</p><p>“Me neither.” Joe laughed and wondered whether the excited, energetic feeling within his chest was happening to Nicky, too. It was as if he couldn’t rest, couldn’t stand still just <em> knowing that he wasn’t alone </em> . Like an art piece he’d write about, Joe studied Nicky’s face and his eyes couldn’t rest until they categorized every single angle and shape of his face. He bit his lip relentlessly as his mind sped through the list of questions and praises he had for him. <em> You were amazing back there. What you did for Copley is admirable. How are you this kind? What was like your life? What did you all see? What did you do all this time? Where have you been my whole eternity? </em></p><p>Absentmindedly, Nicky offered him the cigarette after he’d taken a long drag humself that filled the entirety of his lungs. Joe took it, sucking in his cheeks with the smoke, feeling the nicotine scratch at his throat and ground him; his feet planted themselves firmly on the floor and so did Nicky’s. They just stood there, haunting blue eyes staring into the warmest of browns, and the world seemed to have stopped. Joe lifted his hand only to pass the cigarette back to Nicky, who took it, breathed in one last time and then stubbed the butt against the railing, blowing the smoke out the corner of his mouth while not leaving Joe’s face for a single moment.</p><p>Again, Joe worried his lip with his teeth, the pads of his fingers tapped against his thigh in frantic patterns. It was supposed to be so easy; to speak and to tell him everything he had on his chest from last night. He decided to start talking without another thought, afraid he’d change his mind otherwise. “I have so much I want to talk to you about, Nicolo. After this is all over. You and me - I can’t even begin to describe what I feel right now. I’m so happy and so curious. I need to know everything. If you want. I mean. I need to! But I want to. I want to get to know you.”</p><p>He received the sweetest shy smile from Nicky as an answer and it was too easy to pay it back. The racing heartbeat within his chest started to calm and his eyes filled with nothing but affection and happiness, watching Nicky’s face bathed in the evening shadows. The smallest spasm ran through Nicky’s shoulders as he flushed and curled into himself - like he wasn’t a huge man with broad shoulders but someone smaller, someone less noticeable; a small mouse that tried to run away and hide. Joe took his hand, gazing into the deepness of his eyes with no fear, for he was already lost, and his other hand carefully ghosted over Nicky’s cheek. </p><p>“Nicky.” He could feel it on his palm; the heat that radiated from his flushed skin. It was then that Nicky broke into a wide, happy smile, he even laughed a little and the small cage he built around himself slowly opened when he leaned into Joe, hugging him tight. Joe embraced him back without any hesitation, closing eyes when Nicky settled his face into the nook of his neck. </p><p>“I’d like to talk too, Joe. If we have the time,” he mumbled into his shirt.</p><p>Joe laughed, grabbing onto him just a tiny bit more. “Yeah. I'll check my schedule. Try to cram it in there.”</p><p>He loved the way Nicky’s body shuddered when he chuckled, and he brought his arms around him protectively, tracing the vertebrae of his spine with his thumb. It felt natural to press a kiss into Nicky’s temple and he did, feeling him only melt more into their hug. His heart beated way too fast. He was giddy. Zeus nudged his way in between them and they both looked down to see his dumb, happy face looking up at them, tongue hanging out and all.</p><p>“Don’t be jealous, you oaf.” Nicky scratched his head messily, only to then smooth his fur back down with gentle pats.</p><p>“Are we taking him with us, Nicky? It could be dangerous.”</p><p>“I don’t want to, but I can’t leave him anywhere else. I can’t leave him, Joe.” </p><p>“I know. Okay.” He pressed another kiss into his forehead and pressed him closer once more. “We’ll keep an eye on him.”</p><p>Nicky revelled in the feeling of being held. “Maybe he’ll bite Merrick’s face off.”</p><p>Joe laughed into his hair, snorting a bit. “I’d buy him his weight in ham for that.”</p><p>The air slowly turned colder and Joe noticed the faint traces of goosebumps on his skin. He couldn’t care less, as long as he held Nicky.</p><p>“I’ll protect you, Joe. And everyone. I want you to know that.” The seriousness in his voice was sudden, but not unkind. His body still trembled with affection against Joe’s.</p><p>“I’ll protect you, too. And everyone. No matter what.”</p><p>They both promised and sunk into their embrace once more before pulling back and resting back against the railing. Nicky lit another cigarette and they shared it down to the filter. Each of them was buzzing with possibilities; filled to the brim of their heads with questions and touches and affection they wanted to shower the other one with, but it felt appropriate to wait. It felt appropriate to finish what they’d started.</p><p>Once the moon crawled higher, they left the gallery and snuck back inside the room. Each of them occupied one bed, because it seemed cruel to wake either of their friends up, and drifted off to sleep. </p><p> </p><p>Nile woke up in the early morning, wincing into full awareness immediately, sitting up on the bed. She searched the room, saw Andy, Nicky and Joe peacefully sleeping, and she eased up and the tension from her shoulders dropped. Realizing she couldn’t see Booker, she stood up from the bed to go find him, stepping on his hand in the process.</p><p>He hissed and jumped up, hitting his head on the nightstand with a thud.</p><p>“Shit. Sorry!” she whispered hurriedly, her hands hovering over his back as he collected himself. “Sorry! I didn’t know you were there. Why did you sleep on the floor?”</p><p>“I slept in worse places.” He rubbed the place where a bump would have been, massaging the pain until he felt nothing, and stood up. The curtains were effectively blocking out any outside light except for a few blue sun rays. “What time is it?” </p><p>“I don’t know. Don’t have my phone anymore.” She made sure to keep her voice down just like he did, not wanting to wake the others. </p><p>They exchanged a short look that made it clear they were fully awake and Booker pointed towards the door, leading Nile silently outside. Once on the gallery, they both regarded the almost-empty parking lot and the sun barely peeking out from behind the horizon. They fell into a silence that turned awkward and thick like jelly and both felt internal panic that they could get stuck in it and never get out. </p><p>“You want something to eat? I can go get something. Saw a vending machine in the lobby,” he mumbled, pointing towards the main building, already taking a step in the direction. </p><p>Nile only shook her head. She turned to watch the scenery instead, eyes looking towards London, and let her back hit the wall behind her as she leaned against it. Booker stopped in the middle of his step and watched her; how the cold, morning sun leaned against her features and bathed her in a rough, fuzzy light. He swallowed and dismissed his plan on escaping the situation. It was inevitable that he’d flush and so he didn’t even try to hide it when he took a step towards her. She heard him but didn’t look his way, choosing to cross her arms at her chest instead, staring into the distance with unexplained dedication.</p><p>She let him stand there, letting her words pool on her tongue until she knew she couldn’t hold them any longer before they spilled. “You’d think I would be freaked out or confused, you know. Or something. That I’d have so much to think about. But I don’t. My head is empty. I’m not confused. I… I don’t know what I am.”</p><p>He understood too well. “Well, I guess not hungry, huh.”</p><p>The corners of her lips twisted into a momentary smile. </p><p>“I’m not one to talk,” he started and Nile cut him off with: “You’re not?”</p><p>She gave him a shifty look and he looked away, his shoulders bouncing with another laugh. “I really let my mouth run, huh?”</p><p>“You did,” she pushed past a smile. “But I don’t mind. You helped me a lot. Back there. You know…” Her head dropped and she spoke to the floor while her fingers scratched the popcorn wall behind her. It felt unfair to face him now, but Booker longed to see her eyes all the same.</p><p>“I did nothing, Nile,” he said silently, watching her closely, “You decided for yourself.”</p><p>“I didn’t really have a choice, did I?” She immediately regretted putting it in such a way and found Booker’s pained eyes unbearable to look at. “I don’t mean- I… I’m thankful, Booker. You don’t know how much. To know that I’m not <em> alone </em> in this.” Her hand landed on her chest, clasping the fabric of her shirt. “I was alone for a long time. Back in Merrick’s labs - I don’t know how long I was there. And I know that compared to you guys, it’s probably nothing-”</p><p>“It’s not.”</p><p>“I was alone and I had nobody and nobody understood the pain. Nobody listened.”</p><p>Booker’s eyes started filling up with tears and he looked straight into the sun in hopes of pushing them back. Nile sniffed, too, feeling herself losing it once more.</p><p>“I’m so grateful to find you all. I just… I can never go back. I can never see my mom and brother again. Even my phone - I lost my phone. I can’t even stare at their picture any more.” Her eyes welled up and she drew in a breath that would soon turn into a sob, she knew it. Trying to prevent another breakdown, she timed her breaths, making them deeper. It felt only embarrassing to break in front of Booker again and the gasp she let out when he approached her and offered up his arms was genuine. Her nose and chin scrunched up with a sniff and she buried her face into his shirt as she hugged him and he hugged her back, holding her tight so nothing could ever hurt her again. He cried too, breathing in the scent of her. </p><p>“Your mother and brother?” he asked and willed his voice to not break.</p><p>She nodded into his shirt. </p><p>It was too easy for him to say the next words and he said them quickly, before he could change his mind; before he could hate himself even more. “Take the car, Nile.”</p><p>“What?” She pulled back from him, searching for reason on his face.</p><p>“Take the car. I’ll give you money. You can go and be with them. You got time.” She stared up at him with lips agape, eyes red from tears, and he saw her back there in his room, broken down and lost. All he wanted was to help her find her way. He wanted her to know her options; to <em> have a choice. </em>“You got time before they find out you don’t age. But Nile, it is so hard to say goodbye afterwards.” He sniffed and the tears crawled over the last protective line of his eyelashes, trailing down his cheeks. “They’ll grow old and get sick but you won’t, Nile. And no matter how much you’ll want to be with them, you won’t be able to. I’m so sorry for telling you this. I wish it wasn’t like that.”</p><p>“Booker,” she said silently, eyes wide and voice trembling. She shyly reached over and took his face in her hands to calm him down. He sobbed. “Your family?”</p><p>He cried harder and this time it was Nile who offered her shoulder, embracing him as he trembled in her arms. She hummed into his ear as she rubbed his back, tracing circles into his shoulders to break the pattern of his weeps. He hated himself for putting his weight on her and he hated himself even more when he realized how harshly he unloaded the pain of immortality onto her. Afraid she would run away, he squeezed her body and melted when she squeezed him back.</p><p>“It’s all right, Book. It’s okay.”</p><p>Momentarily, she looked towards the car they had parked in the parking lot. Booker’s offer was clear; the freedom she longed for so much. But he didn’t lie to her like Merrick did; he didn’t dangle her dream in front of her, leaving out the bad that would come with the good. She was immortal now and it came at a cost - it seemed to be only costs - things she didn’t even consider before. She had no contact with her family since the moment she died in Afghanistan. It was possible Merrick had fed them lies about where she was; maybe he told them she died back there, that she never woke up again. It wasn’t like he planned on actually letting her leave.</p><p>“Book,” she said silently and pulled away to look into his eyes. </p><p>He sniffed. “I’m sorry, Nile. Shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-”</p><p>“Book. I’m not going anywhere.”</p><p>He looked at her like she was the light at the end of the tunnel, his features eased up and his frantic breathing halted.</p><p>“I can’t do this to them. I can’t come back only to die for them again. I’m staying with you. I found you guys and I’m not leaving.”</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>“Okay.” She gave him a confident smile then.</p><p>She was no longer broken. She was strong and she had friends.</p><p> </p><p>They pulled away when they heard Zeus scratching at the door. Soon, the rest of the group woke up and before they knew it, they were all munching on vending machine sandwiches, Zeus catching the pieces of ham that Nicky tossed his way. Once they ate, they started to pack up the little they had.</p><p>Andy gathered her spare change of clothes and tucked it into a backpack when she scanned the room and froze up. In awe, she watched Nicky and Joe making the beds and Nile play with Zeus while Booker was smoking outside after he had sneaked a cigarette off Nicky. These were <em> her </em> people now, someone she could trust; someone she’d die for if she could. They were staying no matter what. They stood in the stream of time unmoved as it rushed past them, just like her.</p><p>“I think I need to tell you all something,” she said and dropped her bag on the floor.</p><p>“Andy?” asked Joe kindly, watching her.</p><p>Nile ducked outside to call in Booker and they gathered around her.</p><p>“I have an extra reason why I want to find Merrick. It’s the reason why I came to England in the first place. I need him alive, to ask him something.”</p><p>Using just her touch, she found the edge of the chair behind her and sat down, zoning out, reaching into the depth of her memory that she worked so hard on closing off forever.</p><p>It was during the witch trials at the very end of the 17th century that Andy got painfully lonely. It came in waves, she knew that by then, the terrifying and dreadful emptiness that filled her entire being with nothing but ash. Sometimes it took months, sometimes years and sometimes decades; the painful knowledge of being the only stone in the river, unmoved by the stream that rushed around her and carried away everything she tried to hold onto.</p><p>I was when she lost the last man she allowed herself to share a life with; it was after Achilles. They met when Andy took jobs as a bounty hunter. Except she never collected the bounty on his head; she took his heart instead. Their love made Andy feel full; feel human for the first time in so long. She didn’t let herself hope that she could be with him, spending every day like it was the last; until their days dragged into months and years and decades. She loved him all the same when his cheeks hollowed and the creases on his face deepened. She loved his white hair and tracing the soft veins in his hands when they laid side by side at night. But time wasn’t kind to Andy; it never was. She didn’t let herself see the memory of Achilles sending her away. All she allowed herself was the sinking feeling of loneliness, of wandering without a cause or aim, that engulfed her once she left him and had stayed with her ever since.</p><p>When she had left the house they built together, she had nothing. She ran from him like he was the plague, cursing him in her mind, making him a monster she could justify running away from, but all that brought her was more pain for tainting his memory.</p><p>When she was certain he’d died, she sailed to an island in the Carribean and sunk her boat. She did nothing but wander the shore and deplete the supply of rum she’d brought with, reveling in the hopelessness of not being able to follow him into death. In that moment, when her skin was scorched with sun and her throat was scratched raw from alcohol, she would have given everything and done anything to just close her eyes and never wake up. But when she closed them, the irritating shadow of a dark cloud that loomed over her coaxed her into opening them again, and with distaste, she faced the world once more.</p><p>There was a huge storm that night and Andy welcomed the stormy sea like an old friend, diving into the towering waves and swimming until the coldness took away any sense in her limbs. As she was sinking, she realized that the wild wind and crushing waves didn’t sound as loud anymore; they sounded like they were far away from her, too far to be of any concern or a threat, their rhythm seemed almost soothing from under the surface, and she smiled, willing herself to move her fingers but finding them too numb to respond. Finally, she thought, finally it would be over. The sounds would be pushed out and silenced, her body would freeze over and maybe even crumble once she would hit the seafloor. While the chill took over, seeping into every pore of her skin, crawling down her throat and filling her lungs, Andy found herself content, anchored down by the cold. Time was of no concept; everything moved like a molasses and for a moment, she let herself believe that maybe the world could catch up to her like this; maybe if she just stayed underwater for a long enough time, people she loved would stop dying somehow. Maybe they would find their own ways how to achieve immortality, or maybe they would find a way how to pick up her stone from that stream, polished by the running water into the perfect shape of a tear, and they would carry it with them in life, let it wither and turn into dust un their pocket. That’s all she wanted. </p><p>She woke up washed ashore the next morning. It was a different island, but she didn’t care, she punched the soft sand until the grains embedded themselves in the cuts on her fists. It was then that Andy swore herself to never fall in love with a mortal again. But it was also then that she sparked within herself a flame, perhaps out of desperation, no bigger than from a match, of hope that maybe there was someone who was immortal like her, someone who would understand her and bear this burden with her. How crazy of a thought was that? She never met anyone like her, but then, she wasn’t looking either. It never occurred to her that someone could be just as cursed. The world was getting bigger every day and the cartographers couldn’t keep up with the boats and adventurers who stretched the borders of their maps every day. Was it too crazy to think there could be another like her?</p><p>“I spent hundreds of years looking; years of chasing after legends and scary stories. All I found were corpses and wishful thinking. Until I heard of Quynh; a foreign woman, hanged for accusations of witchcraft. Then burned at stake. Then burnt alive. Then thrown off a cliff. When her persistence to live scared off every clergyman and lord in her vicinity, they decided to lock her into an iron coffin and sink her off the coast. It terrified me. I had to get her out. If she was like me - never dying - she would be in an endless loop of suffering. I searched for the coffin for years; hiring ships and hunting down locals that could know where she was cast off. I was beyond happy when my ship hauled onboard an iron coffin. It was in 1745.”</p><p>The motel room was completely silent as everyone watched her with their own eyes glassy and fogged up with unshed tears. Andy’s voice trembled. She smiled.</p><p>“She wasn’t in there. Just a pile of cracked bones. Quynh was a legend. She was a mortal.”</p><p>And that was the last time she let herself be hopeful that there could be more people like her. But she didn’t tell them that, because she was proven wrong just a day ago when she found all of them; immortal. And now the flame of hope warmed Andy’s chest from within once more; strong and hot, powering the fire flowing through her veins. </p><p>“I accepted Copley’s invitation because he told me I could find out more about Quynh. He said he didn’t know anything personally. Just the name. That Merrick told him to pass it to me.” She smiled softly into the thick air that surrounded her and let her eyes scan the compassionate faces around her. “I was sceptical but… then I found you all. If Merrick knows something about Quynh- If it wasn’t her-”</p><p>“She could be immortal, like us,” spoke up Nile. Immediately, she apologized for cutting her off but Andy only smiled a sad little smile. </p><p>“Yeah. Maybe.”</p><p>Joe sniffed and wiped his wet eyes. “Then we’ll find him and ask him. We’ll find out what he knows.”</p><p>“Yeah, that’s a promise, Andy.” </p><p>The smile she gave Booker was shaky. Her heart swelled up with love at the eagerness of Joe and the support of Nile and Nicky.</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p> </p><p>It was barely 8 in the morning when their car entered the narrow London streets. Joe was at the wheel, patiently tolerating the morning traffic; Nicky was sitting in the passenger seat; Zeus curled under his feet; Booker, Nile and Andy sat in the back. Andy had her trusty axe folded up in a backpack and they kept only their handguns as a rifle would be harder to smuggle into the building. That was the plan, anyway, that they hastily put together before leaving the motel:</p><p> </p><p>“I can disable the security.” </p><p>“You can what?” Joe smirked her way, giving her a nod of approval.</p><p>Nile only blushed. “I mean. I think so. I used to work in security. If we find a computer, I could get in and disable it, most likely.”</p><p>Andy grinned and patted her shoulder. “Nile of all trades.”</p><p>“That could disable the metal detectors as well, right?” asked Booker and she confirmed with a nod. “Then we can bring in the guns and keep the element of surprise.”</p><p>Nile smiled, trying to resist the excitement this woke in her. “But we still don’t know where Merrick will be in the building.”</p><p>“He’s the damn CEO. I’m sure he’ll have it written on his door,” Joe assured her.</p><p>Andy put on her backpack and stood up. “This is the best plan we could have. You get us in. We’ll improvise from there. ” She gave a wink to Booker, who groaned.</p><p>“Just no more molotovs.”</p><p> </p><p>Joe parked the car on the curb and everybody got out, leaving behind only Zeus. Nicky made sure to roll down the window and kiss him on the head as he ordered him to stay. Bullets would be flying where they were going, that was no place for a pup.</p><p>They were within a walking distance to the building and traded brief looks before synching into a brisk pace towards the front door.</p><p>Booker put on sunglasses and when Nile eyed him nervously, he granted her a weak smile. “You got this.”</p><p>“Wait in the lobby until I give you a signal.”</p><p>“What signal?”</p><p>“I’ll think of something.”</p><p>Andy smirked at her and nodded as they all walked through the front door, entering a massive lobby. The ceiling was a few stories high, with the upper floors visible right above them, the space was open and bright with practically every wall being made of glass. It was filled with people; talking with the receptionists and lingering around the displays of stock pictures of happy people and plaques about the company’s achievements. Nile broke off and Booker tugged Andy towards a glass table filled with pamphlets in an attempt to seem busy. Nicky and Joe wandered towards a glass statue depicting a naked woman battling a serpent that stood in the middle of the lobby.</p><p>Joe craned his neck to see the piece from a different angle, eyebrows hitched up. “What a kitsch.”</p><p>It made Nicky laugh.</p><p>“To the maintenance crew: report at the staff elevator, please.”</p><p>They all turned their heads towards the speakers, hearing Nile’s voice. Booker scoffed as they headed towards the elevator. Passing through a metal detector, none of the alarms went off and the door next to it flew open, revealing Nile. Nicky stood on his tiptoes to see a knocked out security guard behind her. She looked too proud, a smirk playing on her face.</p><p>“Maintenance crew?” Joe sounded offended.</p><p>She got fistbumped on her arm by Andy. “Good job, Nile,” </p><p>“Merrick’s personal laboratory and office are on the top floor. I found a keycard for the elevator.”</p><p>They packed themselves into the cabin and Nile flashed the keycard on the control panel, selecting the highest floor. The ride was taking a while and Nile felt the stuffy air within the cabin fill with electricity. Joe pulled out the HK45 and the silence filled with safeties being clicked off as the others did the same. Andy took off her backpack and snapped her axe, slinging it around her shoulder. Nile’s palms felt clammy against the textured grip in her hand. She pushed the slide of her gun to inject a bullet into the barrel. </p><p>“Ready?” asked Nicky, looking at each of them;</p><p>Joe: “Ready.”</p><p>Nile: “Ready.”</p><p>Booker: “Yeah.”</p><p>Andy: “Let’s get this piece of shit.”</p><p>The door slid open and a guard stood in front of them. His eyes widened.</p><p>“Hey!” </p><p>He reached for his gun and Booker slammed his hand down, kicking him away. Andy sent two bullets through his torso. </p><p>Voices started pouring from behind a corner.</p><p>“Shit! It’s them!”</p><p>“Code red!”</p><p>They exited the elevator and stormed down the hallway, turning a corner. Guards hidden behind pillars opened fire. A bullet hit Booker in the shoulder and he recoiled, Joe ducked in and killed the shooter. Nicky ran past Nile and Andy taking cover and got in front of Joe to grab onto the guard peeking from behind his cover. Breaking his nose with an elbow, Nicky threw him against a wall and Joe shot the last one when he peeked to take another shot. They pushed through, a trail of bodies in their wake.</p><p>At the end of the hallway stood wooden double doors into the labs that Booker and Nicky kicked open from each side, surging in, Joe, Andy and Nile right at their heels. They ran into a circle of guards, the first few bullets riddling Nicky and Booker; both fell on the floor in a stumble as glass walls shattered around them. Joe  growled and emptied the rest of his magazine into two closest guards, punching a third one with the butt of his gun. Nile braced against the guard running at her to tackle her and threw him over her shoulder, ending him with two shots in the chest. Andy shot a guard clean through and focused on the next one, slinging out her axe and turning into a spin that finished him off with a slice clean through his neck. A guard ran at Joe with a taser in hand, rushing at him before he could use it, Joe granted him a blow square in the face, throwing his body into the squad of guards coming in. Standing up, Nicky brushed off the pain and looked at Booker, who was already on his feet and emptying his magazine into the guards scrambling on the floor. Nicky launched at a guard running past him, tackling him to the ground, finishing him off with his own gun. Joe twisted around a guard trying to grab him and slammed him into a wall where Andy ended him with a slash of her axe. </p><p>Breathing heavily, they all gathered in the middle of the huge room. Streaks of blood covered them head to toe and they searched the bodies for signs of life and ammo, reloading their guns while they ran towards a door leading to the offices. </p><p>“Is this it?” asked Nicky.</p><p>“Should be,” mumbled Nile and took a deep breath as, this time Joe and Booker, shoved the door open. They were in a spacy, luxurious office dominated by an overly large table behind which was cowering Merrick. Keane stood before it with a rifle in hand, a taser in the other. Joe hissed a bit and started walking towards him.</p><p>“Stop!” screamed Keane. “Stop right there! Remember this, fucker?” He held up the taser and aimed it straight at Joe, whose steps slowed down to a stop. He rubbed his fingers together, tapping his index on the trigger of his gun. His eyes darted between the voltage needles and Keane’s stupid smirk. “That’s right. Stay where you are, freak!”</p><p>That was when Joe relaxed and rolled his shoulders with an easy smile. He sighed. “Nicky?”</p><p>Two shots rang out and Keane’s back hit the table before collapsing on the ground, two holes drilled into his chest. </p><p>“Stay where you are, ” mumbled Joe as he walked past him and around the table. The others did the same, circling the table from the other side to reach Merrick, who was aiming a gun at them frantically, his arm shaking while he took cover behind his office chair. His other hand was still bandaged.</p><p>“Stop! Stop right there!” he cried out. It looked like he was on the verge of crying. His eyes widened when he spotted Nile. “Please. Nile! Nile! You’re supposed to protect me!”</p><p>She said nothing and kept her gaze on his shaking form, resisting the second-hand embarrassment she felt for him. He was a trembling mess; a terrified, pathetic man. They circled him like a pack of wolves and just stood and watched. The searing gaze of their eyes seemed to burn Merrick’s skin and he cowered.</p><p>“Listen,” he started then, lowering his gun and throwing his arms up in surrender. “Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you! We can make a deal!”</p><p>They stepped away to give space to Andy. Merrick gulped when he saw her marching towards him and outright whimpered when she grabbed his collar, her axe pressed into his cheek. “Where is Quynh, Merrick?”</p><p>“Quynh?” he seeped out. </p><p>Andy growled, putting pressure on his throat. “This is not the time to play stupid, Merrick. Trust me. Where is she?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m here.”</p><p> </p><p>Their heads snapped towards the door, aiming guns at a woman in a white lab coat and red dress.</p><p>Nile’s eyebrows furrowed. “Doc?”</p><p>“Doc?” asked Booker.</p><p>“Doctor Kozak. She… She experimented on me. Back in Germany.”</p><p>Even Merrick’s face scrunched up, he choked himself as he tried to look her way. “What the fuck?”</p><p>The woman didn’t react and stood still, unmoved even when staring down a number of barrels. She took off her glasses and dropped them, then took slow steps towards Andy, circling the table until she stood at an arm’s length from her. Neither of the immortals moved but their guns stayed trained on her. Andy’s arms trembled and she slowly let Merrick’s feet plant back on the floor, eyes wide and twitchy, looking all over the face of the woman in front of her. Her black hair was pulled back into a tight bun, her full lips pulled into a tight smile. She watched Andy with unnerving stillness; it felt like her black eyes were boring holes into her skull.</p><p>“Quynh?” she gasped out. </p><p>“Nice to meet you, Andromache the Scythian.”</p><p>Andy choked up, letting go of Merrick who scrambled back to his feet and hugged the wall, getting some distance between him and Andy. She couldn’t care less, turning to face Quynh with her whole body.</p><p>“How do you know-”</p><p>“Copley. He has a file on each of you.”</p><p>“Copley said he didn’t know you.”</p><p>“He doesn’t. He knows me as doctor Meta Kozak.”</p><p>“Then how could you-”</p><p>“I heard tales of a strange, lonely woman, sailing the waters and looking for an iron coffin that held a witch at the bottom of the sea. She went by the name of Andromache. I thought you were a fanatic, another judge who’d sentence me to another death. I ran from England and didn’t look back. When Copley brought his research, your name rang a bell. A coincidence, really. But it worked out.”</p><p>“No. Quynh,” she whispered it like a prayer, “This is incredible. I was meant to find you. Even if so late. You were real. You’re real. You survived.”</p><p>Her face scrunched with distaste. “I always did.”</p><p>“I gave up. I gave up all hope.” Andy laughed weakly, reaching for Quynh to pull her into a hug. The woman took a step back and Andy’s arms were left hanging in the air, the smile sliding off her face. </p><p>“Did you? You came all the way back to England and all it took was my name. Maybe I was right with the fanatic.”</p><p>“No,” stuttered Andy. “It’s not like that. I was just looking for someone like me. I didn’t want to hurt you. I never did. I don’t.”</p><p>The supposed Quynh didn’t say anything else and the silence only made Andy’s insides curl into themselves. The others weren’t any more relaxed, fingers itching on triggers, watching the two women cautiously. As silently as he could, Merrick tried to creep along the wall away from them, but was stopped by Nicky’s hand that dragged him back into their circle.</p><p>“You got your Quynh! Let me leave.”</p><p>The woman in the lab coat didn’t spare a look his way and instead, she gazed out the huge window and focused on the streets far below. Her chest rose with a deep breath that she let escape through her nose.</p><p>“Quynh,” whispered Andy, “You’re immortal, right? What are you doing here? You don’t have to work for Merrick.” She didn’t wait for an answer before adding: “Come with us.”</p><p>Merrick laughed then, stopping only when their scolding eyes landed on him. He grunted when Nicky shoved him onto the table. </p><p>“I get it now. I get it. I was just a pawn! Used me just so you could have this bloody family reunion.” His spit smeared the table’s surface and he sucked in a breath as Nicky pressed him into it harder. “She’s not really working for me. Andrea. Or Andromacha or whatever.” Quynh was the only one standing still while everyone’s eyes shot to Merrick. He grinned, even against the cold surface of his table being actively pressed into his face. “She works <em> with </em> me. This whole thing was her idea.” </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>There it is. My last reveal. It is the one I am the most nervous about.</p><p>The last chapter will be posted within a few days, so anyone who is curious as to how the hell this all happened doesn't have to suffer with theories for too long. (And I can't wait another week to share it!)</p><p>Let me just tell you that I am very excited about this work, because it is my first story of this size, and I cannot wait to show you how it wraps itself up. I absolutely love all comments and reactions and am over the moon happy whenever I get to read one. Your support has been amazing and it really lightened up my days over the course of writing this story.  Thank you very much.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. All good things</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> 1699 </em>
</p><p>When her lungs filled with air, a shock of electricity spread through her body, sizzling at the ends of her fingers and toes. Sharp light invaded her eyes, prying them open so the sea breeze could attack them and whip at her skin. She opened them more; welcoming the sting, pressing her face against the ragged steel in search of the pain, eating up the light. Her ears deafened, overwhelmed with the sounds of crashing waves, ringing metal and crackling ropes. Distant screams of seagulls crawled into her head and she laughed, greeting the fleeting shadow of the bird that flew through the sky.</p><p>It wasn’t the water. </p><p>
  <em> It wasn’t the water. </em>
</p><p>The coffin was dropped roughly but she welcomed the pain on her body with a smile. Once the front plate got pried off its hinges, Quynh’s naked body collapsed onboard. She was wheezing, lapping up air with hunger. Her fingers clutched at the wooden boards under her; her toes curled as she stretched her limbs, fighting the stiffness in them, and she spun around to sprawl on her back and watch the sky and the beaming sun looking down at her once again. The bright orb hid behind a passing cloud, softening the rays of heat leaning against her skin, and Quynh had to laugh, cackling as her chest rose and fell without being constrained in that iron shell.</p><p>She heard the voices around her; the terrified gasps and whispers and panicked orders being given to the ship’s crew. It overwhelmed her and she closed her eyes as her eardrums throbbed. </p><p>“Unnatural. How could she be alive?”</p><p>“Is she a siren?”</p><p>“Lock her up! She’s a witch!”</p><p>Quynh’s eyes opened and she turned to look at the man who screamed the words.</p><p>“Or even better, throw her back to the sea!”</p><p>She stood up, her eyes not leaving the man’s, and started walking towards him. No one dared to approach her; settling on only voicing their fears while the man backed himself into a corner, trembling under her gaze.</p><p>“It’s a woman.”</p><p>“But how could she survive?”</p><p>“This is a curse!”</p><p>She stopped in front of him and didn’t flinch when he bared a sword with a curved blade.</p><p>“Stay away! Don’t touch me!” he screamed. “Someone, help!”</p><p>Nobody did, choosing to stand as far from them as they could, their hearts in their throats. Still, the man’s eyes didn’t relent in searching for his crew’s help, because when he looked into the hollow of Quynh’s, all he saw darkness. A pit that didn’t reflect any light. And they were boring a hull straight through his head.</p><p>He couldn’t take it any longer and swung his sword. The blade buried into Quynh’s arm, slicing it from her elbow down to her wrist as she grabbed it and tore it from his hands. He screamed and the crew did too. Quynh crouched down and picked up the sword with her other hand as her sliced arm nursed itself back whole. She was grinning as she bit her lip clean through, savoring the pain. </p><p>“Who are you?” he whimpered, sliding down onto the wooden floor. He was crying.</p><p>“Not a witch.” She swung and cut off his head in one smooth motion. </p><p>There was no wound on her arm when she turned back to the crew. They stood breathless and watched the head of their mate roll down the wet wooden boards until it stopped against the mast. </p><p>Quynh’s first order was to stuff the captain of the ship inside of the coffin, bolt it shut and throw it back into the sea. Nobody dared to defy her and their swords turned against their own. Soon, she stood onboard and watched the steel coffin sink and she counted the bubbles that crashed against the surface when the iron maiden disappeared within the depths of the sea. She killed everyone who dared to look at her wrong, leaving alive only the helmsman and the navigator together with a handful of men strong enough to man the sails. Once they hit shore she had no more reason to leave them alive and it was a boat of ghosts she stepped off to get on land. At that moment, Quynh knew there was nothing that could compete with the sensation of soil tickling in between her toes when she walked across a field. She breathed in as much air as she could, stretching her lungs until they almost burst - she wanted to breathe it all, breathe all the oxygen and don’t leave any for others.</p><p>A voice in the back of her head told her that everything was okay now; that the nightmare was over and the bad people who hurt her were long dead, but a much louder, much more sinister voice told her that she wasn’t done until she took revenge; until she left death and bodies in her wake. She listened to the latter. </p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>“When I got out of that box, I was tired of playing the hero. No more sacrificing myself for the weak and unfortunate. <em> I </em> was weak and unfortunate. <em> I </em> was the one that should’ve gotten help! The one they should have saved! They should have <em> worshipped me. </em> They should have <em> been grateful </em>after what I did!” </p><p>She bared her teeth in fury, lips pressed in a tight line, hands gripped into fists. Her eyes were set aflame and the intensity of them brought the whole room to a still, as if everyone was afraid they could catch fire if they got too close.</p><p>“I helped people! I saved men, women and children! I cut nooses looped around the necks of innocents, blamed for witchery just because they had jealous neighbors! And what did they do?!“ Her upper lip curled in contempt and her eyes narrowed. The tone of her voice dropped, the intensity of it too - only a broken, bitter whisper remained as she looked Andy in the eyes. “<em> They locked me in a box and threw me in the sea. </em>”</p><p> </p><p>…</p><p> </p><p>“Quynh,” she whispered.</p><p> </p><p>“No. Shut up. You’re gonna listen to me. You’re gonna <em> understand. </em>”</p><p> </p><p>“Just <em> what </em> was happening to me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Because back there, on that shore of the land that <em> rejected me </em> - that <em> refused me, </em> I realized what my purpose was. It wasn’t to help, it was to <em> punish. To punish and torture so those sons of bitches realized what they were doing!” </em></p><p> </p><p>Andy’s chin twitched with a silent sob as her eyes filled with tears and her lips slid apart. “Quynh!”</p><p> </p><p>“And that’s what I did! That’s what I did, Andromache. The rest of you! I killed! I tortured and I took my revenge and nothing ever felt as sweet.”</p><p> </p><p>It was a dare; a challenge to press the trigger Nile’s finger rested on and she wanted nothing else more than to succumb. Her heart sank to the bottom of her ribcage at Quynh’s words. Scared, she looked at the others only to see her eyes reflected in theirs. They were terrified and they pitied her at the same time. Only Booker cried. He held his mouth with a shaky hand, trying to keep in the whimpers he trapped in his throat. And Andy, the strongest one of them all, stood in front of Quynh lost like a child, cracked all around and just waiting to shatter. </p><p> </p><p>“I guess whatever deity is responsible for this shit has a sense of humor, Andromache. Because I grew more than bored; I grew resentful not only of life itself, I grew resentful of every living thing, including myself. I failed at the only thing everything in this filthy world is guaranteed to do! I couldn’t even die! After all that blood I shed and after all the pain I laughed through the universe still didn’t see me fit to die! Why not, Andromache?! Why didn’t I die?! Centuries! Thousands of years of pain and suffering! Nothing is supposed to live this long.”</p><p> </p><p>Andy sank to her knees in front of her, slowly, putting down her axe and grounding herself by feeling the cold marble floo. It was as if every muscle in her body gave up at once and she just lied there, looking at Quynh and feeling the coldness seep deep under her skin.</p><p> “Andy,” whispered Nile, Joe crouched down to her, holding her. She didn’t react to him, it was as if she didn’t even notice his presence. </p><p>“Quynh, I-”</p><p> </p><p>“Keep your words. Tell them to someone who wants to hear your pity.” She was flushed with anger that seemed to only increase once she saw Andy’s companions tending to her.  Her brows pressed tightly together as she searched their faces. “I should be pitying you, Andromache. Nicolo. Yusuf. Sebastien. At least I didn’t wallow in my misery like the sad lot of you.”</p><p> </p><p>“So you killed innocents instead?” shot back Joe. Those warm, soulful eyes were discolored; his beautiful face tainted with worry and confusion. “Did you send others to death only to get in her favour so she could let you die? Not much use, was it? All you did was shorten lives that could’ve had meaning.” His face tensed and his vision blurred with tears but his gaze held the endless pits of Quynh’s eyes for what felt like an eternity.</p><p> </p><p>“I did,” she said simply, watching the shock wash over Joe’s face and seep into every line of his face like ink into paper. “But it didn’t bring me any closer to death. My research did.”</p><p> </p><p>“Research?” Nile stepped forward, her face bitter with disgust. “You mean the torture you put me through?!”</p><p>Booker reached to hold her arm, holding her close to him. His breath grazed the side of Nile’s cheek and she let the warmth hold her in place; as if she wasn’t ready to pounce at the woman in front of her and claw her eyes out. All Quynh did was watch them with the same deep set stare. She stood like removed from the scene; a pure observer of events that didn’t involve her.</p><p>“You bitch,” muttered Merrick then. “You were immortal all this time?! I had immortality within my grasp!”</p><p>Nicky made sure to drag Merrick’s face along the table as he brought him closer. “All this time?”</p><p>“She’s been working for me for 10 years! The fucking liar. I could’ve started this research ages ago!”</p><p> </p><p>“It would’ve brought you nothing. Just as it did me. I spent the whole of your meek, mortal life trying to find out what caused this unwillingness to die and even after years upon years of needles and experiments I found shit-fuck of any substance. No answers. It was only when Nile showed up.” She brought her eyes towards the young woman, effectively freezing her in place once their eyes met. “That I realized there ever could be more people like me. I had more specimens; a higher chance to succeed.”</p><p> </p><p>“So you tortured me?!”</p><p> </p><p>“I was trying to find out how to end this! How to rid you of this curse before you could even begin to taste the pain of eternal life, Nile!” She was shouting off the top of her lungs, breathless and shaking. “Do you realize what you put me through?! Knowing that there’s another person like me, another soul bound to wander in the darkness of immortality forever! What a sick joke! After all I’ve done!”</p><p>She then turned to the others, and to Andy specifically, kneeling down so she could be on her level. Her face radiated of hatred and contempt.</p><p>“I planted the idea into Merrick’s head that there could be more; and there was. You four. You’ve been wandering the earth for almost as long as me, some even longer. All this time, there were others. Nobody told me, Andromache, that you were looking for me to save me. Nobody told me that there were brothers who could’ve prevented me from getting locked into that iron prison in the first place.”</p><p>She sobbed then, seeking understanding in their faces. “Where were you? Where were all of you? Just how sick is fate to never bring us together?”</p><p> </p><p>“We didn’t know,” gasped Nicky breathlessly, “We didn’t know, Quynh. We all thought we were alone. Were we together, we-”</p><p>“We would’ve saved you. We would have never let you get this hurt,” continued Joe.</p><p>Booker hugged Nile tight, now more to cage her safely away than to hold her back. “Quynh. We’re here now. We can be together. We can do better.”</p><p> </p><p>She closed her eyes tight and clenched her jaw with bared teeth. Turning on her heel, Quynh wandered towards the huge window, planting her palm on the cold glass. </p><p>“My goal changed over the years, you know. I still wanted to know how to end it. But I started to wonder <em> why </em> it was happening in the first place. When I was of no use anymore, I thought that with all of you, maybe I could finally figure it out. I was so close.” She narrowed her eyes as her fingers pinched the London Eye in the distance. “I was closer to mortality than I’ve ever been. Finally, I would know the <em> why </em> and I could die in peace.”</p><p>Fleetingly, she looked behind her shoulder at the lot of them; Booker held Nile, Nicky and Joe traded looks as one of them kept Merrick in check and the other one cradled Andy. They were so alike to her; the only beings who could ever understand her, before whom she wouldn’t need to play a role or lie. And yet, Quynh’s chest hollowed with despair and her spine tingled with cold, sticky fear. She never felt more alone. Her eyes welled up with tears.</p><p> </p><p>“You still want them, right?” Merrick’s eyes were crazed with opportunity, he laughed bitterly. “Doctor - or Quynh, or whatever - fight them! We can still do this!”</p><p>With a sigh, Quynh pulled out a gun from her coat and aimed it at Merrick. She gave him the opportunity to stare down the barrel and face the consequences of all of his actions before she pressed the trigger and Merrick’s head twitched against the table, blood splattering. Nicky winced and then let go of him, stepping away slowly.</p><p> </p><p>“Quynh.” With help from Joe, Andy stood up on shaky legs. Her face was flushed from tears, trails of them crusting her cheeks. They faced each other and stood in silence for a long, fat moment of silence. “Come with us. We can fix this.”</p><p> </p><p>“I can’t, Andromache,” she was crying now, too, “Can’t you see what I’ve done?” </p><p>She looked towards Nile, envy tugging the corners of her lips up in a cruel smile at the sight of Booker holding her. “I could’ve had that. Friends. Family.” Her chest heaved at the words and she looked ready to collapse. Taking a moment, she composed herself and looked away. “It’s too late. It’s too late, Andromache.”</p><p> </p><p>Andy took a few brave steps forward. “I don’t care, Quynh. Come with us. Please.”</p><p> </p><p>“Leave. No one will go after you. Just leave.”</p><p> </p><p>“Quynh.” And she touched her shoulder. Quynh winced, eyes wide and red with tears. “You’re one of us.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not,” she pushed through gritted teeth. Weakly, she tried to pull her hand away but Andy didn’t let her, embracing her instead. “I’m not one of you. Not anymore.”</p><p>The whisper of her voice landed only on Andy’s ears and she squeezed her harder. Quynh shut her eyes, letting big tears crawl over the edge of her lashes and slide down her cheek.</p><p> </p><p>“I just found you. I will never leave you, Quynh.”</p><p> </p><p>She sobbed and Andy pushed her own wails away so she should comfort her. Even with her face buried in Andy’s neck, Quynh could feel it; the presence of Joe, Nicky, Booker and Nile around her, watching over them. </p><p>They would surely hate her. They would surely want revenge. </p><p>A gentle, tender touch landed on her shoulder and she recognized it as a palm. Her eyes shot open and she looked up to see Nile. She didn’t look hateful or spiteful; she looked understanding and the absurdity of it made Quynh only cry harder. </p><p> </p><p>“Don’t you see what I’ve done?”</p><p> </p><p>“We’ve all done stupid shit.” Booker caught her gaze and managed a solemn nod. “Doesn’t mean we can’t do something right for once.”</p><p>“I found you, Quynh,” mumbled Andy into her neck, “I won’t let you go again. I won’t let you drift away.”</p><p>“Nobody should be alone,” said Nicky. Without another thought, his eyes found Joe’s and their hands did the same where they stood next to each other. </p><p>“You’re ridiculous,” sniffed Quynh. “You can’t just blindly offer this to me.”</p><p>“Call it a sick twist of fate, Quynh, but thanks to you we’re all together. We’re not alone anymore. And we’re not gonna let you be either.” Andy nuzzled closer into Quynh’s hair and felt all the tension leave her body as she finally squeezed her back. </p><p> </p><p>Hearing a grunt from behind him, Joe looked back to see Keane lifting himself up on the table, his rifle in hand. Joe’s arm rose and he took aim and shot Keane square in the head just as he pressed his trigger and a burst shot out.</p><p>As Keane’s body collapsed back onto the floor, Joe looked back to see Andy and Quynh on the ground, both of them covered in blood.</p><p>“Fucking hell!” he yelled.</p><p>Nile crouched down next to them together with Nicky. “Are you okay? Easy.”</p><p>Andy grunted as her stomach knit itself back together and she brought herself up to her elbows to tend to Quynh. She was still lying on the floor, eyes wide open and hands shaking, covered in the blood pouring from her stomach.</p><p>Nile took hold of her hands. “Quynh?”</p><p>The shock in her eyes was not unfamiliar to Nicky, he pushed Nile aside as he knelt next to Quynh and ripped her dress open to reveal her skin turning red around two gaping holes in her abdomen. </p><p>Andy’s eyes grew wide, her pupils shrunk. She muttered a curse as she took hold of Quynh’s shaking hands. “Why isn’t she healing?”</p><p>“I don’t know. The bullets went through. Nile, press down here.”</p><p>“Maybe it just takes a while. Right?”</p><p>“Andromache.” Quynh wheezed. She smiled once their eyes met, trying to ignore the trail of blood escaping from her lips.</p><p>Andy swallowed and squeezed her tighter. “Nicky!”</p><p>“We need to stop the bleeding. Nile, apply pressure. Joe? Booker?”</p><p>“I’ll look for a first aid kit.”</p><p>“Towels.”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah.” </p><p>With terror in her face, Andy watched them scatter and then followed Nicky’s hands pushing down on the wound. Everything was painted red and the sounds started to sound far away, as if she was elsewhere and only heard their cries through multiple walls. Her eyes landed back on Quynh’s. She looked so pale and peaceful it made Andy’s eyes sting.</p><p>“Quynh.”</p><p>“I’m mortal,” she whispered.</p><p>“That’s impossible.”</p><p>“But I am.”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“I’ve been for three years.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“I don’t know why.”</p><p>“That’s not true. That can’t be true.”</p><p>“Andy.” Her hand stopped shaking only to hold onto Andy’s and keep her still. “It’s okay.”</p><p>“No. I just found you.”</p><p>“You did,” she said silently. “Sorry we didn’t meet sooner.”</p><p>Andy cried then, biting her lips raw as tears poured and poured out of her eyes. The little sounds of pain that seemed so fleeting for them kept coming out of Quynh’s lips as her body accepted its wounds and didn’t fight to heal itself. Soon, Quynh lied her head down, watching Andy through tears.</p><p>“I didn’t want to go until I knew <em> why </em> we were immortal, Andromache. But now I feel okay. With all of you here, it feels okay.”</p><p>“For fuck’s sake. Nicky!”</p><p>“Don’t leave us, Quynh,” he said as calmly as he could, grabbing a towel Joe brought over and pressing it in her wounds. “Don’t leave us. Stay with us.”</p><p>But she closed her eyes without putting up a fight.</p><p> </p><p>“No. Keep looking at me, Quynh.”</p><p> </p><p>“She’s not breathing.”</p><p> </p><p>“Her pulse is gone. Get off.”</p><p> </p><p>“Do something!”</p><p> </p><p>“Andy.”</p><p> </p><p>“One, two, three.”</p><p> </p><p>A squad of soldiers barged in and a flurry of arms rose up, except for Nicky who was applying CPR and Andy who was curled up on the floor next to her crying. Guns raised, the others were ready to fight like they always did. It was Copley’s voice and his order of “Don’t fire!” that prevented bullets from flying. He walked inside leaning on a cane and he patted one of the soldiers on the shoulder as he did.</p><p>“Ease, Moose.”</p><p>“Sir. Ease!”</p><p>Upon the man’s signal, all barrels lowered. Joe let his arms falter, staring at them in shock. Nile and Booker caught each other in shock and then glanced towards Nicky and Andy.</p><p>“Call the medical team. Now,” ordered Copley once he saw them, and within a few seconds a group of paramedics ran through the door and one of them knelt next to Nicky, patting him on the shoulder and taking over. He backed away drenched in sweat and smelling like death itself, he lied on the floor and barely squeezed back when Joe knelt next to him and took his hand. </p><p>“Copley,” muttered Booker, nervous eyes darting all around the room and sizing their chances upon the display of weapons present. “What are you doing here?”</p><p>“Helping.”</p><p>It was surprising, to say the least, the smile that Booker gave him. He patted his shoulder.</p><p>Nile laughed. “That’s right, James! Jesus.”</p><p>Zeus ran past the soldiers and immediately found Nicky, licking off the sweat off his face. He smiled. </p><p>Copley turned to them. “You should thank him. He barked a storm out there. That’s how I knew to hurry the fuck up.”</p><p>Nicky smiled and eyed Copley’s posture, the pain that barely tugged on the muscles in his face. “Seems like you were saved.”</p><p>“And felt really stupid.”</p><p>Quynh took in a breath with a gasp and the team of paramedics immediately crowded her and lifted her to a stretcher that they rushed out of the door.</p><p>Andy was on her feet in an instant, following them until she couldn’t, a group of soldiers standing in her way. “Where are they taking her?” </p><p>“She’ll be taken care of.”</p><p>She growled then, turning to Copley. In one smooth motion as she walked towards him, she swiped up the axe from the floor. “You won’t lock her up again!”</p><p>“Heavens, no. They’re taking her to a hospital. I’ll see to it that she’s taken care of and then released. I swear to you.”</p><p>Joe was on his feet already, half shielding Copley with a hand outstretched towards Andy. She looked at him with such fury it was hard not to crumble under her gaze. </p><p>Her mouth felt sticky with blood and tears and she swallowed. “Why would you suddenly help us?”</p><p>“Because you need it. And because I can.” Not wanting to give her another chance to doubt him and launch at him with an axe, Copley looked around the office and regarded Merrick’s and Keane’s bodies. He sighed. “This will be a lot of work. Moose! Start the clean up.”</p><p>Joe’s eyebrow hitched up. “Clean up?”</p><p>“Yeah. Nobody can know what happened here if you guys want to stay hidden.”</p><p>He didn’t grant them more than a fleeting look before he walked off to see the squad.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>“Where will you go?” he asked her outside Quynh’s room as he handed her a passport, “Miss Black.” </p><p>It took her a moment to respond. She didn’t want to pray away from the sight before her just yet, her eyes on Quynh through the glass window, watching the lines of her shy, rare smiles that Joe probably coaxed out of her with a terrible joke. She was sitting on her bed, finally wearing clothes that weren’t the hospital gowns, which she wasn’t shy about hating, listening to the exciting story Nile was presenting everyone with, her arms flying about in wild gestures. Booker was leaning against the wall, his shoulders jumping with every suppressed laugh that he hid just as poorly as Joe, who soon broke and decided to laugh fully in a toothy grin that bent him over far enough so Nicky had to catch him. Finally, Andy smiled and took the little book from Copley, looking down at her new name.</p><p>“Wherever they do.” She tucked it into her jacket and offered Copley her hand.</p><p>He looked at it warily. In his head, he wasn’t about to shake hands to seal a deal or a business contract, nor was it shaking hands with someone he knew; a friend maybe, no, this was a shake on life itself, on the mortality and immortality of it, and on the fleeting, foolish and ultimately futile chase after dominating it; after controlling the inscrutability of it that he now realized was without any reason or purpose, it only was and the entirety of the world was at its feet. He was no longer the man who tried to hunt down fate and bend it to his will. This Copley knew better now than he did a few months ago when he greeted her with the same name that was now inked in the passport in Andy’s hands. He took her hand and they shook. Andy granted him a smile.</p><p>“Will you come after us?”</p><p>“No.” He chuckled at the absurdity of it. “You’ll come after me. When you’re ready.”</p><p>She gave him a nod. “Thank you.”</p><p>He paid it back and their hands let go, she walked inside the room and Copley watched how Quynh’s eyes lit up once they saw each other. Andy tucked herself next to her side on the bed, letting Quynh lean into her and sigh with content.</p><p>For a moment, he just stood there and observed; seeing those faces he hunted down in the rapids of history and spent so much time just studying, seeing them on police reports and photos and paintings, and they were before him now and they were smiling, cheeks flushed with laugh and strained with smiles, eyes decorated with laugh lines and happy tears, and Copley couldn’t help himself but smirk.</p><p>The sight before him was nothing short of extraordinary and simply human at the same time.</p><p>Maybe that’s what was extraordinary about them in the first place; they stayed human.</p><p>He wondered if it was in spite of all their years, or because of it.<br/><br/><br/></p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>:)</p><p>I am beyond excited to share with you the ending. It's been quite a journey. </p><p>I started to publish the chapters when I was about half way done with the whole thing and your reactions and support made the writing process so much fun - I owe all of you who read this a huge thank you. I never expected for this story to actually become this popular (so many kudos are crazy to me!) and just know that you made this amateur writer really hecking happy and proud and humbled. Falling head first into this fandom was apperently an amazing idea and I love it. Who would've thought?</p><p>As a sign of gratitude, please accept an EPILOGUE CHAPTER which will be published at the end of the week. You can expect loads of fluff, happy endings and bad jokes (and Zeus!). I've been dying to let the immortals be soft and happy and the time has finally come! I always wanted to end this story on a sweet note. I could also add some author commentary at the very end - I'd like to shout out some of the readers for being awesome and reveal a bit about the process of creating the story. Let me know if you'd be interested in that at all!</p><p>If you have time to leave a comment, I would love to hear your thoughts about the story. I'm hungry for crititique, too. I'd love to improve and any feedback is highly appreciated!</p><p>Thank you for reading and have a great day~</p><p>-reddottedpaper</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Epilogue: Start Somewhere</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>A year later</em>
</p><p>The hotel room vibrated with music. The windows were wide open, letting in heavy hot air that had travelled across waves and milky white cliffs, bringing in a whiff of the salty sea that made Nicky smack his lips. He laughed and tripped in a dance move, falling onto Joe who was happy to catch him, bringing him along with a shimmy of his shoulders, grabbing hold of his hand in the process to lead him as he danced backwards. Letting himself be led, Nicky’s arms slid over to Joe’s shoulders, hooking onto him before he pushed off to air guitar as the chorus came in. Both of them sang, neither of them really good. They didn’t hear the room service through the bass and the room service lady was more than grumpy when Joe finally opened the door, his body still twitching into the rhythm of the music as he thanked her and took over the drinks they’d ordered. Later, he would fuzzily remember that she opened her mouth to say something but he closed the door with his hip before he could hear it.</p><p>“Oh no. Are we too loud?” giggled Nicky as he sipped on his glass of wine.</p><p>“Nonsense.” Joe hugged him and nuzzled into his neck, licking off the sweat at Nicky’s pulse. “She said we’re exceptional guests.”</p><p>“She did not say that. Bullshit.”</p><p>“Yes shit.”</p><p>Nicky blinked at Joe. “That’s not how that word works.”</p><p>“Oh. My tongue must’ve gotten twisted.” He grinned up at him and the mischief in his eyes spread down to his lips, his tongue licking across his teeth. “Help me untangle it?” </p><p>The stupid smile that spread across Nicky’s face got smushed in between their lips when they kissed. Too stubborn to stop swaying to the music, Joe made sure their lips didn’t part as he sucked onto his lip and danced them towards the closest wall, where he pressed Nicky against it clumsily, holding himself up with a hand.</p><p>“You’re gorgeous.”</p><p>“Aren’t you flirtatious.”</p><p>“And?”</p><p>“And gorgeous.”</p><p>It wasn’t long before the hungry wine kisses turned into slower ones, and soon they stumbled back to the bed, the one they hardly left in the past week except for swims in the ocean and walks down the beach and through the festive-lit town. It was their vacation, after all, and neither of them felt guilty about being lazy during their down time. Time seemed to cease existing when they were together; they both realized that when they kissed for the first time.</p><p>It was only a few weeks after Merrick, when Quynh was recovering and Andy spent all her time by her side, that Nicky and Joe found that they had the time they needed to finally talk. They  found a quiet restaurant that was hidden away in the dark shadows of the city they were staying in, found the table furthest away on the terrace, ordered a bottle of wine and just talked. It was much easier to talk than either of them expected; words started pouring out of their lips and soon enough they had to watch to not cut the other one off and only bite the inside of their cheeks, listening intently while keeping their own thoughts at bay until it was their turn to talk. They were asked to leave when the restaurant was closing and they walked back to their safe house with a nice slight buzz and still engulfed in their conversation. </p><p>“Oh Nicolo,” said Joe suddenly and stopped walking, making Nicky stop too. He took his face in his hands and watched him with such adoration Nicky had to blink a few times to make sure he wasn’t imagining it. “I will kiss you in the morning.”</p><p>Nicky eased up, his eyebrows hitched with disappointment. “In the morning?”</p><p>“In the morning.”</p><p>“Why not now?”</p><p>“I want to remember all of it. I’ll  never forget it.”</p><p>Eyes still locked, Nicky swallowed. “Joe?”</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“We’re tied together by fate, kind of, aren’t we?” Nicky smiled almost dumbly, hoping his words didn’t sound too dramatic, but Joe gave him the warmest of his smiles.</p><p>“We are, Nicolo.”</p><p>“Yusuf.”</p><p>“Had I not woken alone, Nicolo, had I walked the earth this whole time by your side, I would have been the happiest man to ever live.”</p><p>Nicky smiled and for a moment he just leaned in, his nose grazing Joe’s cheek, feeling the dimple there from the other man’s breathy laugh. They breathed in sync and their arms locked around each other without much direction.</p><p>“Walk it with me now, Yusuf. From now on.”</p><p>“Forever?”</p><p>“For as long as we have.”</p><p>They looked at each other and Joe ran his hands through Nicolo’s hair, searching for the speckles of stars within the blue of his eyes.</p><p>“I want that.”</p><p>“I want you.”</p><p>And they kissed anyway and time froze, waiting politely until they parted to move the world again. They shared the bed that night, curled up together. Neither of them ever slept this good; this safe. In the morning the next day, they kissed again, and properly, but both of them remember the first kiss from the alley. </p><p>It was so easy from there; to sleep peacefully, knowing they were safe wherever they found themselves, as long as the other one was right by their side. They all travelled together at first, ending up in the mountain cottage in Switzerland that was Joe’s, properly off the grid and old fashioned, which Copley made sure was off any map. From there they would sometimes split up; help out Copley when they could, venture out on their own to play another important part in history, watching over Nile as she came to terms with immortality, supporting Quynh as she came to terms with her mortality now that she was forced to finally face it. Having a place they could always come back to felt foreign at first, but was surprisingly easy to get used to; like they found the puzzle piece they were missing and looking for for ages, turning over furniture and tearing off carpets only to find it lying right in front of them when they almost gave up looking.</p><p>Back in their hotel room in Malta, a burner phone on the nightstand started ringing. Preoccupied, Joe threw a pillow its way and it landed perfectly, muffling the ringing.</p><p>“We should probably get that, Joe.”</p><p>“Right now? Right at this moment?”</p><p>“We’ll call back.”</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>“Are you holding the rope?”</p><p>“I’m holding it.”</p><p>“Are you really?”</p><p>“Yes! Jesus Christ.”</p><p>“Nile, are you sure?”</p><p>“Book, for fuck’s sake.”</p><p>“It’s my life on the line,” he mumbled and Nile chuckled. Accompanied by another handful of complaints, Booker repelled down the cliff until his feet hit the white, solid ground. </p><p>“Earth to Booker: Welcome back.”</p><p>“Really funny.”</p><p>It was, at least to Nile, and she grinned wide and evil, her tongue pressing in between her teeth as she made tsk tsk sounds.</p><p>“Who would’ve thought you don’t like heights, old man?”</p><p>“I never said that.” But his hands made quick work of the harness around him and before Nile folded the main rope Booker threw it off himself in a heap, together with the rest of his gear. He caught his breath, his chest now visibility less painfully allowing his lungs to fill up. It was Nile’s “Wow” drenched in awe that made him look up again, seeing her standing on the edge of a rock with her back to him, facing an army of giant beams of milky white crystal that penetrated the space from all angles, crossing each other and bending the light they’ve brought down here into a showcase of gorgeous colors. Everything looked so big and they seemed so small. Booker stood up to stand by her side, studying the harsh lines of the crystals, searching for the crooks and hideouts where he remembered hiding with Andy back in the day.</p><p>“They grew bigger.”</p><p>“When were you here last?” she asked breathlessly, eyes glued on the sight before her.</p><p>He thought for a moment. “19th century. They discovered a bigger chamber not that long ago, and decided to flood it again. This one’s pretty small compared to that one.”</p><p>“Jesus, Booker. I don’t know what to say.”</p><p>He looked at her then, seeing her glowing with wonder, face flushed with different shades of the colors bouncing around the space. Even here, she was the most beautiful sight. </p><p>Humbled, that was the word he was looking for to describe how he felt being with Nile. Back in Switzerland, Andy had stayed with Quynh to recover and in spite of their protests, ordered them to travel and spend some time together on their own, instead of pampering Quynh as she seemed to handle that just fine on her own and seemed to get annoyed whenever they tried to take over. Joe and Nicky took off as if they were only waiting for a permission, but Booker stayed behind and so did Nile. He remembered very clearly watching TV with her when all of sudden she said: “What about Egypt? We should go to Egypt. I’ve never been.” He was sure he had to look like he just choked on the sandwich he was eating at that moment, but something in him told him to just still and follow, it wasn’t even a choice; she presented it so confidently like a fact that he didn’t even think about questioning it. So all he did was swallow the bite and say “Sure.”</p><p>It was North Africa first; the pyramids and Cairo and its museum and gallery, then they travelled to Belgium because Nile was dying to know how Booker lived and if his apartment was as badly fashioned as his clothes, which he took quite personally and thoroughly enjoyed the shocked look on her face when she was presented with a beautiful, plant-filled loft apartment with a terrace, then came Japan; countless of afternoon strolls under a shower of cherry blossoms, evenings of getting stuffed with sushi, which Booker found that Nile <em> loved </em>, and then came South America; Mexico city right on time for Día de Muertos, nights and eventually mornings of getting hammered on tequila and mezcal, and then came Chile and its Cueva de los cristales, or, the one chamber Booker and Andy found in the 1850’s which wasn’t flooded yet. Nile was hungry to see the world; to know and understand every language and culture and land that belonged in this world. It wasn’t just sightseeing either, they kayaked down the Meuse, bungee-jumped from the Suwakyo Bridge and went deep-diving in Playa del Carmen, among others.</p><p>In his weaker moments, Booker wondered whether she threw herself at every new adventure to get the best of immortality, or to forget it, but those thoughts soon subsided. It was impossible to not feel joy when he was looking at Nile laughing and taking pictures and excitedly writing postcards to Andy and Quynh and Joe and Nicky. He felt happy. Nile made him feel alive again. Life was not as bad; colors were not as bleak. </p><p>They ended the day on a terrace of their small hotel, drinking beer and looking over the Lago Gral Carrera, tired but content. Nile was writing yet another postcard. She kept them in her bag because they couldn’t actually send them, but she decided they were just as special when handed personally. Still, she made sure to put a local stamp on each of them before stuffing them into a pocket where they collected before she could hand them to their recipients. Booker was lying on his forearms, feet lazily shuffling on the ground, watching with a stupid smile how Nile doodled crystals onto the card. She drew in two stick figures as well and Booker snorted.</p><p>“Are you doubting my artistic skills?”</p><p>“Like that gallery lady back in Antwerp? No thanks. I’m not looking for a lecture.”</p><p>“It was not a lecture. I just corrected her.”</p><p>“It was definitely a lecture.”</p><p>“If Joe was there, that would be a lecture.”</p><p>“He’d be gentler than you.”</p><p>She kicked him under the table and he curled up like he was seriously hurt. They settled back into comfortable silence and Booker kept watching, landing his eyes on Nile whenever she licked her lip in focus. Soon, he wasn’t watching the card anymore and settled on just Nile; the top of her nose, the arch of her eyebrows, the soft, gentle eyelashes lining her eyes. He frowned immensely when her face turned worried. She searched the table and then started looking through her bag.</p><p>“What’s wrong?” he asked and honestly, he was ready to do whatever to bring the ease back to her face.</p><p>“Nothing,” she mumbled and stopped, “I just thought I bought one more. It’s nothing.”</p><p>Booker reached into his jacket and took out another postcard, Nile’s eyes locked onto it.</p><p>Whenever Nile wrote a postcard, she wrote one for her family as well, hiding them in the lining of her backpack. He didn’t know why she was hiding them, but felt bad invading her privacy when he noticed it. </p><p>“I noticed you bought just one,” he said and slid it over the table over to her.</p><p>She watched the card like it would combust at any moment, her form tense and voice careful as she glanced back at Booker. “Do you think it’s stupid?”</p><p>He shook his head and looked down on his hands, his skin rising with goosebumps when Nile’s appeared in his field of vision, taking hold of him. “Thank you.”</p><p>“Nile?”</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>He looked back at her then. It was so easy to open his mouth and say the words, he thought. <em> I love you, Nile. I feel alive with you, Nile. </em>But the way her face lit up when she flashed him another carefree smile was too pure, too soft to not see it through until the end, and when she giggled and took another drink then, saying something to poke fun at him for being so soft and sensitive, every thought in his head disappeared, carried away by the melody of her voice. He would look back at this moment later, cursing himself for not saying it, but then he’d be glad that he didn’t, thinking that he’d lived a life so vile and empty for so long it seemed too risky to enjoy it now, to feel happy again. He didn’t think he deserved to be this happy. For the first time since so long, he felt alive because he was a part of a family, because he was with Nile. Every morning, he’d wake up thinking this was the day it would go bad again, and be pleasantly surprised when the day brought him nothing but warmth within his chest and cheeks hurting from laughter. But it was too much to ask for her - to ask for her brave, breathing love. Cold sleepless nights that crept up on him ever so often reminded him that he was still a broken man, and he decided not to put that on Nile. Not unless he knew he’d deserve her back. </p><p>She squeezed his hand, a huge smile spread across her face. “Book? Hello?”</p><p>“Mmhm?”</p><p>“I lost you there for a second.”</p><p>He smiled weakly, watching the inside of his palms again. “I’m back.”</p><p>“Good, because I want another round and I’m not drinking alone. This is a happy holiday. No sad drinking on my watch.”</p><p>“Yes, ma’am.” He grinned.</p><p>She flagged down a waiter and ordered another two beers, catching Booker in the act of gazing at her like he’d just seen an angel. She snorted once the waiter walked off. “What? I got something on my face? Hey, didn’t you want to tell me something before?”</p><p>“You look beautiful tonight.” He caught himself immediately, but the words were already spoken.</p><p>Her cheeks flushed immediately and her smile lost its confidence. She was thankful when the burner phone on the bottom of her bag started ringing and both of them froze up.</p><p>“Andy,” mumbled Booker and they sat up straight as Nile fished the phone out.</p><p>She opened it, accepting the call with: “Library on the Nile here. Looking for Books?”</p><p>Booker groaned and she kicked him under the table.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>Warm, summer air gently leaned into her skin, ruffling up the hair flowing around her ears and ringing the wind chimes that hung from the patio’s roof. The soft hollow ring of wood filled the space around Andy and she smiled, imagining the wind carrying the chimes’ song far away, down the dirt road leading up to the house, across the large stones lining the creek that ran along their garden and then down into the vast valley, and the wind would follow it, sliding down blades of lush green grass, gliding past majestic antlers of the deer family that lived in the forest nearby, and soft furry ears of the wolves they heard at night, until it would be drawn up into the hills and higher where it would cool into an icy blade that cut the rough shapes of the towering mountains that stood guard day and night. Andy smiled and took a deep breath. In today’s world, it was nothing short of a miracle to stand in a place and not feel rushed. This place felt like it refused to bow to time. Time was not respected here; time was kicked out at the door and the bouncer refused to let it in. It could be the 16th century and it could be the year 2512 and Andy wouldn’t be able to tell. She loved it here.</p><p>“How can you smoke looking at something this beautiful?” asked a voice behind her, and Andy knew that if she’d turn around there would be Quynh, leaning against the doorframe with a disapproving shake of her head but a playful smile on her lips.</p><p>“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she hid the cigarette behind her back as she turned to face Quynh, acting innocent. “Smoking? Me?”</p><p>Instead of a lecture, Quynh leaned against the banister next to her, fishing the cigarette out of her grasp with lithe slender fingers. </p><p>“It’s kind of pointless if it’s not dangerous to you, don’t you think? It misses the thrill when there’s no looming threat of cancer or ashed lungs.” She took a drag then and Andy knew she shouldn’t be as concerned as her face let on.</p><p>“It’s fine, Andromache. I’m fine.” Quynh grinned then and started taking fast, heavy drags, burning the cigarette down to its filter.</p><p>“Whoah whoah!” Andy wrestled the cigarette away from her but it was only the filter at this point. She stubbed it into the ashtray she kept hidden under a bench while Quynh half chuckled and half choked on the smoke coming out of her mouth. </p><p>“You should’ve seen your face. ‘Oh no! She’s going to die faster now!’”</p><p>“That’s not funny.”</p><p>But Quynh smiled as sweet as the sun itself when it crawled over the hill their bedroom window was facing in the morning. She radiated warmth and joy and <em> life </em> and Andy let herself be lost in her eyes, smiling back herself. </p><p>“It is a little funny. You worry too much.”</p><p>“Do I?”</p><p>“I’m not fragile, Andromache. I won’t break that easily. Some would even call me ‘young’.”</p><p>They both leaned forward, their foreheads touching and both of them let their eyes close. Andy’s hand disappeared into Quynh’s hair, that she let flow freely down her shoulders these days, and she stroked it, brushing through it with her fingers while Quynh hugged her around her waist. </p><p>It wasn’t easy to get where they stood  - but was there ever something easy about their life? When Quynh had woken up in the hospital, she refused to speak for a week straight. All she did was lie in her bed, pale and weak from painkillers and barely able to move because of the bandages around her wounds. And every day, Andy and the others were there by her side: Joe would be sitting on the couch in the corner and read her out loud books, Nicky would sneak her food that he knew she needed and wouldn’t hurt her, but tasted much better than whatever the hospital was serving, Book would just sit by her side and stay silent, but she appreciated his presence, and his silence, more than he could know. Nile was shy when she visited Quynh for the first time, and despite her old age Quynh herself found it hard to face her. It was then that she spoke for the first time since she woke up.</p><p>“I am sorry, Nile,” she said. “I understand that you can’t forgive me.”</p><p>“Oh, Quynh..” She approached her and sat on the side of her bed and took her hand. “I thought about what you said back there.” The smile she gave her then was the first thing to bring color into Quynh’s face. “That you tried to stop it for me. I just want you to know that I understand that. And I want you to know that I’m glad you’re okay. I forgive you, Quynh. I made mistakes, too, and the others… They didn’t even question it. They just took me in. And I know I’m new to this, but I know that if there is any <em> right </em> way to tackle this life, it’s together.”</p><p>She clasped her hands warmly and it was then that Quynh started crying. She hadn’t cried ever since she got out of her iron prison. This time though, the water on her cheeks didn’t scare her or throw her into a panic attack; the tears were a relief, a comfortable reminder that she was human still, that she had a heart like everyone else. Nile hugged her then, humming into her ear while stroking her hair and Quynh let her voice lure her back to sleep. </p><p>Andy, who slept with her head at Quynh’s feet ever since she first arrived in the hospital, who never left her alone and helped her chew the hospital food and helped her go to the bathroom and for short walks once she could walk again, cried happy tears once she heard Quynh’s voice again. They would talk for hours, deep into the night and even longer, until the plain, white room lit up with morning sun and they struggled to keep their eyes open. They spoke of their lives; so long that even today, a year later, they traded stories and shared secrets for days on end. Both of them ached to know the other one. In Quynh’s mind, Andromache was an angel coming out of a haze, someone so beautiful and strong and fearless. She admired her will to hold hope, after so many disappointments, she admired her will to be <em> good </em> , to be <em> kind </em>, but most of all, she admired her will to be vulnerable around her and tried her best to give it back whenever she could. In Andy’s mind, it was too easy to fall in love with Quynh. She loved every single one of them, but she loved Quynh so much her heart swelled up three times its size within her chest. There never was a doubt in her mind that she’d never be mad at Quynh, or that she’d ever want to punish her; she was one of them, as lost and as alone as each of them and all Andy wanted was to give her home and security. Quynh was the miracle Andy hoped for so many years ago, and she was no less a miracle now. Perhaps they gravitated towards each other because they were the eldest, two halves of the same soul. They found their ages quickly: Andy was the eldest, then Quynh, then Nicky and Joe, then Booker and then baby Nile.</p><p>All of them had questions ‘why’, even when most of them had stopped asking them, but ever since meeting Quynh and facing her mortality, new questions appeared: When will this stop? When will I die? It showed subtly at first; Nicky’s sure hands chopping vegetables more carefully, Joe actually looking twice before crossing a street, Booker stopping at three shots a night and Andy training her swing with the axe without carelessly testing the sharpness of it on her finger. Somehow, it was the furthest of scary; the feeling that they may die one day, that their life isn’t endless. It was like a reassurance they all waited for, a certainty they could always look back at and rely on and it felt like their shoulders were lighter, like the burden upon them was not as huge. One day, this would end, but not today, they all hoped. Not while I’m happy. Not while I’m with people I love. </p><p>The difference from their lives alone was that now, they were not afraid to believe and hope that it would be true. </p><p>Andy knew she’d need to shower Joe in gold to show just how grateful she was for this place, but she knew gold would probably mean nothing to him. “I’m just happy to see us all together,” he’d said, welcoming them all here for the first time, flashing them all his warm, beaming smile. The calm mountains and serene hills of Switzerland were like a salve upon Quynh’s soul and she healed quickly with no lasting damage. It came from Andy’s selfishness to have her all to herself, she knew that, when she sent the others into the world so they could have some time for themselves. She found it hard to feel guilty though, when her and Quynh curled on the couch together to read, or when they lounged by the fire when it was raining outside, drinking wine from each other’s lips and whispering love in languages long forgotten.</p><p>Life had a meaning again and Andy knew this was it, she felt it in the curl of her toes when Quynh kissed her neck and in the twitch of her skin when their hands touched. She was in love and she was loved back and she was happy. She was ready to live again.</p><p>“Zeus!” Quynh called.</p><p>He was already off the patio, landing softly in the tall grass and running off towards the dirt path, barking. The two women shared a look and walked down the stairs off the patio but stayed in front of the house, both grinning as a car drove towards them, Zeus making a circle around it and running by its side in a greeting. Andy smirked at the sight of Nicky’s arms flailing around from the car window until Joe stopped the car so Nicky could spring from his seat and tackle Zeus to the ground.</p><p>“How I missed you, you fluffball! You fluff monster! You beast!” </p><p>Zeus’s tail was very close to making him take off, slapping Nicky in the face multiple times as he kept turning around and around in his arms, trying to lick at his hands and face and everywhere he could reach while Nicky laughed, patting him. Joe got out of the car with a scoff and a shake of his head.</p><p>“What about me?” he pouted and Zeus snapped to his voice and ran up at him immediately.</p><p>While Joe was being slobbered on, Nicky got back up and saw Andy and Quynh, walking towards them. He rushed to them and hooked both into a hug, squeezing tight.</p><p>“Oof!” Quynh started to tap out, slapping his shoulder.</p><p>“Nicky,” smiled Andy as she squeezed him back.</p><p>He released them and smiled. “You look well. Both of you.”</p><p>“You almost squeezed my poor mortal life out of me,” seeped out Quynh and smirked up at him, taking deep breaths.</p><p>“Me? Just wait until-”</p><p>“Quynh!”</p><p>“Ah!”</p><p>Joe picked her up so her limbs helplessly hung in the air and spun her around. Andy and Nicky shared a knowing look before she leaned against his shoulder with her elbow, patiently waiting for Joe to set Quynh down just so he could steal Andy instead. He gave the best hugs. </p><p>“Booker and Nile?” asked Nicky.</p><p>“They’re coming for dinner.”</p><p>They carried their luggage inside and Nicky cooked a light lunch that they all ate together, the boys sharing stories from their travels and the girls sharing misadventures with Zeus, who was happily biting at the enormous cow bone Joe brought him under the table. After they ate, they went for a walk past the stream and through the woods, taking in the clear air and searching tall grass for tiny yellow flowers that Andy wove into a crown Quynh proudly wore on her head on their way back to the house. When the sun started to set, Joe started fire in the fireplace and Andy poured them wine while Quynh with Nicky danced around the kitchen, preparing Nile’s favourite lasagna with crepes, Booker’s favourite, for dessert. Not long after Nicky took the lasagna out of the oven, Zeus ran outside, barking in greeting to another car, Andy with Joe ran after him just in time to see him jump into the window of the incoming car, causing it to abruptly stop.</p><p>They heard Booker. “Jesus Christ! A dog!”</p><p>And Nile’s laugh. “Puppy dog! Awww! My furbaby!”</p><p>“I think I had a heart attack.”</p><p>“Walk it off then!”</p><p>The door flew open and out marched Nile, carrying a huge smile, she started running towards Joe and Andy, almost crying when she finally slammed herself into them, hugging them tight.</p><p>“Andy! Joe!”</p><p>Joe caressed her back and kissed her forehead, then Andy did the same, holding her neck while they leaned back, eyes gleaming with happiness. They turned to see Booker with their bags walk towards them, and Zeus in tow, holding Nile’s backpack in his teeth.</p><p>“What’s up, vacationers?” he grinned at them, thinking foolishly that he’d be spared of the bear hug that Joe pulled him in, or the iron squeeze Andy gave him right after. </p><p>Quynh squealed when they entered the cabin. It was warm and safe, with a cozy light coming from the fireplace, and smelling wonderfully of food fresh out of the oven. Quynh hugged both Booker and Nile at the same time, almost choking them as she squeezed them together.</p><p>“Do I smell lasagna?” Nile’s eyes opened wide as she located the dish being placed tenderly on the table by Nicky. “Nicky, I love you.”</p><p>He shot her a stern look. “I will cut off your fingers if you take a bite before it’s properly cooled.” </p><p>“Nicky, I hate you.”</p><p>He grinned at her then and joined the stockpile of them, holding them all in his wide arms. </p><p>“Not without me,” said Joe and joined in, then Andy did the same.</p><p>They just stood there for a moment, holding each other tight, before Nile’s stomach growled and she actively fought her way out of the hug so she could sit at the table, vibrating with glee as she waited for the food. Once everyone was seated and wine and beer poured, they ate dinner, sharing stories once more, telling jokes and laughing and kicking under the table and holding hands on top of it, and then they ate the dessert and Booker might have cried a little bit because the crepes were just perfect and Nicky blushed just a tiny bit both because he was proud of his cooking and because Joe kissed him on the cheek right after he was praised. Hours ran past them like they were seconds, they sat at the table with full bellies and feet put up, sipping on their drinks while the outside world turned into deep night, only stars looking at them through the wide windows.  </p><p>Booker sighed. “And that’s why we’re banned from MALBA.”</p><p>“They’re the ones missing out,” countered Nile and they laughed while she finished off her beer with an unassuming rise of her brows.</p><p>“I had to physically drag Joe away from the tour lady in the Vatican. He was this close to taking over her presentation.”</p><p>“The people who paid for the tour would’ve thanked me. She was all wrong.”</p><p>“They wouldn’t know the difference, Joe.”</p><p>“I would!”</p><p>Nicky giggled into his glass and Joe felt like he was standing in fire, the warmth from his chest spreading into his smile and the stars he had in his eyes whenever he watched Nicky laugh. He noticed the same look on Booker whenever Nile was telling a story, but stayed silent and decided to just wink at him whenever he had a choice, hoping he would either realize what it meant or be absolutely confused, both of which Joe considered a win. Andy and Quynh were swinging in their chairs, leaning against one another and both of them holding a glass with red wine. The only disadvantage of their position was that they couldn’t see each other’s faces and stare lovingly in each others’ eyes. </p><p>“So,” said Andy and let her chair’s feet land back on the floor. “I think it’s time you guys find out why we called you back home.”</p><p>Home. All of them smiled at the mention of it. It truly was home.</p><p>Joe grinned, narrowing his eyes at Andy. “What? It wasn’t to watch our vacation pictures? And we have so many.”</p><p>“Oh man. I brought a projector and everything,” muttered Nicky. </p><p>Booker scoffed. “A what?”</p><p>Andy’s lips twitched into a smirk which she willed away. “No, unfortunately. But we <em> are </em> looking at the pictures. It’s on the list.” She then turned to Quynh, seeing her gentle face lit up with happiness, her skin was practically glowing and the tiny lines around her mouth that were proof of her smile were the most beautiful feature on her, followed by her dark eyes, warm and shining from the firelight. She gave Andy the slightest of nods, taking a deep breath one would take before jumping off a diving board, and reached for her hand, holding it on top of the tablecloth. Then Quynh turned to the others.</p><p>“I called Copley.”</p><p>Everyone at the table perked up and their lazy smiles stiffened up.</p><p>“I’m ready.”</p><p>“Are you sure?” asked Nicky.</p><p>“I am sure, Nicolo.” </p><p>He smiled slowly, watching Quynh as she gave him a firm nod. Then Joe started to grin and Booker joined in, then Nile and finally Andy, who kissed Quynh, who was smiling herself, on the cheek.</p><p>No matter how much they willed it to, time never stopped for them. Not for Nicky and Joe kissing in the middle of an empty street, not for Booker waiting to tell Nile how he felt about her, and not for Andy and Quynh, who spent the past year collecting themselves and healing each other. Time never stopped. The world kept spinning and people kept living and dying. Each of the immortals felt their duty to do good, to reach into the ever-spinning tornado of life and hold onto at least one person, dragging them out, saving a single life that would never be forgotten. They felt it before they met each other, when they were all alone, and back then perhaps it was the only thing that kept them going, but they feel it still, now that they’re a family, they feel it maybe stronger than ever before. Each of them called Copley during the year, they asked for missions when Quynh was recovering, in a desperate attempt to help someone, somewhere, when they couldn’t quicken the healing process for Quynh. They called him when they were all supposed to be on a vacation too, first Nile, then Joe and Nicky, then Nile with Booker - it felt unfair to be so happy all of a sudden - it felt unfair to let the world go on as it was when they knew they could make it better, even a little bit. And Copley let them heal; Copley let them help. Nicky and Joe saved victims of an earthquake in Mexico, then helped handle an industrial explosion in Lebanon, Nile and Booker went on to save an MSF camp when it was overrun by local bandits. Neither of them told each other or Andy, they didn’t need to. They knew who they were, they knew what they were here for. They knew that one day, they’d all go together. They were just never sure about Quynh and her mortality. She was too precious to them. She was too precious to Andy to let her go. They all waited for her to be ready; for Quynh to be ready. To be ready to fight for the weak once more. She was a warrior after all, like all of them, and she wasn’t going to just sit at home while the rest of them watched over the world’s fate.</p><p>“When do we start?” asked Nile with a smile.</p><p>“Tomorrow. Copley’s meeting us in Budapest,” answered Andy.</p><p>“You should all go to sleep,” smirked at them Quynh. “You’re not the youngest, you know. Get a lot of rest. So you’re ready for what’s coming at us tomorrow.”</p><p>And she winked at them.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Officially, the end. :)</p><p>Thank you for reading this work that became much longer than I planned. I hope you enjoyed yourself along the way.</p><p>Now, I don't really know how to tag other users, so I'm just going to write their names here:<br/>andyoudoctor, g33kyclassic, esking, shatterthefragments, liliaeth, queermermaids, stars_inthe_sky, Trev<br/>Thank you for your support and (often lengthy!) comments, they helped me a lot in the writing process and I just thought you deserved to know that. You guys are super cool!</p>
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